Transformative Language Arts of Tiffany Vakilian: Body Fiction 2

To keep a promise, here's a bit of a different Saturday Post!

***

Six Separate Thoughts - Part II

From the hospital bed of a young woman:

It's the toe that pushes the accelerator. It’s the toe that puts the adrenaline and momentum in Vin Diesel’s inner thigh, and then in my imagination. All those car chases, all those dances with death. Ballet pointed toes with bullets and leaps across cliffs; leaps that I can’t do anymore. Then I watch Breakin’ 2 and crack up at the Boogaloo.

Right now I watch.

Meanwhile is healing. Meanwhile is pain. Meanwhile is trying not to drown in Percocet. Meanwhile are a million stupid detailed memories of things I will not be able to do. Even something as stupid as cracking my toe, which my mother hated, is something I will miss.

But I must remain positive. At least Mom won’t nag me about that anymore. And there’s the movies - Bond, Transporter, Fast & Furious. All of my friends vicarious. I’m in between.

All I have to do is choose, right? That’s what my big brother always said. “Once you make a choice, you’ll have more peace.” So, I choose. I choose to get up, to live, to fight, to honor the body part I lost by making it the underpinning of my future determination to thrive. I’m going to save my money and modify my whole frickin’ life to do the two things most unexpected of me in this new body.

First I’ve got to tell the doctors to stop acting like I’m dead already. I’m not dead, and I’m not letting their opinions of my sitch stop me. If Jason Statham can go from outdoor salesman to box office action star, then I can learn to walk without one of my big toes.

Once that’s done, I’ve got to tell my family to stop looking at me like a broken bird. It was bad enough after the accident, staring at my foot like it would suck them through the bandages into parts unknown. They stopped seeing me, choosing to focus on my one missing body part. A spotlight on phantom pain, and the irony of it is not lost on me.

Maybe I should get a new wardrobe. T-shirts with awesome slogans. STARE AT MY MISSING TOE SOME MORE PLEASE or WANNA HELP ME FIND MY TOE? What would that song Speed Demon inspire in a nine-toed woman’s t-shirt? I’ll make finding that out number 3 on my list.

Once I get out of this hospital bed, and through physical therapy, I’m going to learn how to race cars. I’m going to learn how to dance. Drive and dance.

I’m still frickin’ here people!

***