Appointments, cycles, results, a Thursday in a diary five weeks out.

I had not chosen the hour of a significant event since I was twenty-nine years old.

And now a woman in good pearls had chosen the hour of this one as well.

When I’m ready to.

Not when you’re ready.

It is nine words about scheduling, and it was the first decision of any kind that I had made entirely on my own behalf in a decade, and I made it flat on my back with a dressing across my stomach.

Part Sixty-Six: One Tiny Foot