Chapter 5: Going Under
The morning of the surgery, the pre-op room was quiet and sterile. No anxious parents sitting by my bed. No brother pacing the floor. Just the rhythmic beeping of my heart monitor and the steady, comforting presence of my best friend, Sarah, who had driven me to the hospital.
"You ready to evict this freeloader?" Sarah asked, squeezing my hand as the nurses began prepping my IV.
"More than ready," I smiled.
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As the anesthesiologist pushed the sedative into my line, a profound sense of peace washed over me. I had already survived the worst cancer of all: the toxic, suffocating rot of my own family. As the room faded to black, I didn't feel fear. I felt lighter than I had in years.
While I was under the knife, fighting for my future, karma was finalizing the paperwork for my past. Brandon was picked up by the police trying to board a Greyhound bus out of state, caught stealing a stranger's wallet to afford the ticket.
