The Big Hole

Several weeks from now, I’ll be checking in to the hospital for surgery. It’s not major surgery. Certainly nothing scary. But there is a possibility I’ll be losing an organ. A major organ. For a woman, THE most major organ. It’s only a possibility though, and unfortunately I won’t know until I wake up what happened. Which means I have to decide before I go under what I want to do.

I’ve gotten second opinions. I’ve searched the web for information. I’ve talked to friends and family. I’ve cried a few tears. I still haven’t decided what I’ll tell the surgeon before they put me under.

The organ in question is my uterus. My womb. It’s never been used. I’ve never been pregnant. I don’t mind that really. I’ve known for years I wouldn’t have a baby. I haven’t wanted one. But I’ve always known I could change my mind.

The uterus is only about the size of your fist. It feels bigger though. A friend told me she imagined her uterus to be about the size of a watermelon. I think that sounds about right. If I let them take mine, what would that leave? A hole the size of a watermelon? Sam says no, but I’m not sure. How do you measure that kind of hole?

Last week I was driving to meet my personal trainer. I was running late as usual and decided to take a short cut. I turned on 50th Street, took a right, and then another. And then suddenly, right there in front of me, right there where I use to live, right there in that little studio apartment on the second floor… The one with the black & white kitchen and the bedroom I painted orange. The one with the claw foot bathtub in which you couldn’t stand up straight to take a shower without bumping your head. The one where Jorge serenaded me from below my window and Kris left a trail of rose petals up the steps. The one where I nursed my cat Panther back to health and where I killed that GIANT spider and felt proud of myself for not screaming as I did it. The one where I hooked up my first real quality stereo system and where Scotti lived when we first became roommates. That place. The house at the corner of 48th & Holly. Was gone.

I was confused at first. I recognized the house next door. It looked just the same. But where my house had been – nothing. Nothing! Just a big hole. Not a hole in the ground, but a hole in the neighborhood. A hole in the air. A hole in my stomach. And another in my chest. There was fresh dirt where my house used to sit. Fresh dirt covered with yellow straw. And a sign that said “Lot For Sale.”

I turned the corner and drove the remaining few blocks to meet my trainer. I took the holes with me.