Healing Out Loud

What it means to be in the messiness of healing for the world to see

It used to be called an operating theater
because there were seats.
I know this from Grey’s Anatomy…
Rows of them. Students peering in,
watching the surgeon work
watching every move they’ll eventually perform.

The healing happened in public
for curriculum.

I’m recovering out loud
for the same reason.

Believe me, I considered the private room.
And to be honest I tried and failed at that way.
It didnt work for me to go away quietly
and come back fixed,
tan, mysterious,
Showing up married when last they checked you were single.
Healing offstage,
An after without a before.

But I got well in a teaching hospital.
Not a real one, I got well in rehab (surprise). Same thing.
Which means I got well
in front of people,
in a gown that does not close in the back.
The gown that gives only
the illusion
that you can be dignified
and saved
at the same time.

You can’t.
So pick one.

My voice is the narration of my healing.
Out Loud is the name of the textbook.

Out Loud is the lecture hall
where shame is marked absent.

Out Loud is how the next set of hands
learns the technique.

Out Loud is the anesthesia
when I thought that the numbness of addiciton
was healing me.

I am not brave to heal Out Loud,
I am just taking what I’ve found to be the most effective medicine.

I may be walking around with a gown that doesn’t close in the back,
bare ass out for the world to see,
But it’s fine.
Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been undignified.
Staying alive is on the syllabus for today,
and class is in session.