Contemplating Angela Flanders Breath of Hope

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Photo from The Women's Room Blog

Photo from The Women’s Room Blog

6:30 AM. Torn from my sleep by the audacious din of the alarm. Luckily a steaming cup of coffee has been left on the bedside table to lure me out of my duvet cocoon. I had a very early pre-assessment for surgery appointment at a hospital, which I suppose is nothing anyone really looks forward to. Hospitals, in my experience, have always struck me as such odd, peculiar places. Places that are meant to be havens of health and recovery that to me feel a bit tarnished in a faint essence of miasma that despite the overpowering, clinically sanitary smell of over-scrubbing with an army of cleansers and chemicals designed to seek out and burn away bacteria like some sort of molecular level Inquisition never seems to dissipate entirely. And despite the makeshift decorations and pitiable little plants, although trying their best, there is often times little cheer to be brought to such places.

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