Hollow …

I can’t sleep.

It seems that as of late life has taken a hold, and it’s throttling me, like a puppy with a new stuffed toy.

Honestly I don’t even know where to begin, so I’ll start exactly where I am.  I am in my mothers sewing room, on a rented twin bed that was possibly comfortable in 1950.  However, it now simply pokes and prods all of my soft spots with hard, unyielding coils. 

It all began three weeks ago when I underwent surgery.  If you’re squeamish I suggest you turn the channel. 

The surgery was to remove a mass from my uterus.

Yes, a girl part. 

Sadly, they were unable to do so and I underwent a hysterectomy.  I awoke in hospital, drugged and sad.  For believe it or not I wanted my uterus. 

For years I’d contemplated having a child. A wee little thing with blue eyes and a button nose.  But it was never the “right time”  Now, no matter what the time, there will never be an extension of my body.

I find myself mourning the loss of dreams, body parts and moments I’ll never have.  

Is it odd to grieve such things?  I don’t know. 

All I can tell you is that life has changed. I have changed. Plans have changed. My insides have changed.

Am I less of a woman now that my belly is empty of its womb?

When I place my hands upon myself and press ever so slightly, I feel hollow.  Is it real or simply imagined?

But then again, maybe it’s just Memorex.