There’s a threshold to be crossed at every inflection point in life after which the decision is out of your hands. For something like top surgery, it’s an exciting time.

Today’s story is “Morning Of” by Madison Scott-Clary, whose graphomania occasionally gets the best of her. Today’s story is from her collection A Wildness of the Heart, which you can find at wildness.makyo.ink. Her writing is available at makyo.ink, where you can find stories, poems, and books to purchase or read for free online.

Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.

thevoice.dog | Apple podcasts | Spotify | Google Podcasts

If you have a story you think would be a good fit, you can check out the requirements, fill out the submission template and get in touch with us.

https://thevoice.dog/episode/morning-of-by-madison-scott-clary

You’re listening to Pride Month on The Voice of Dog.

This is Rob MacWolf, your fellow traveler,

and Today’s story is

“Morning Of” by Madison Scott-Clary,

whose graphomania occasionally gets the best of her.

Today’s story is from her collection A Wildness of the Heart,

which you can find at wildness.

wildness.makyo.ink. Her writing is available at makyo.ink, where you can find stories, poems,

and books to purchase or read for free online.

Pride is not only

to be found in a parade.

Victory is not always a shout.

Triumph is just as much present in the quiet moments of patience,

in the silent determination,

in the day-by-day business of living each unremarkable moment,

one at a time, until the dreamlike hyper-present

of the very last one

before they all finally add up to tomorrow morning.

Please enjoy “Morning Of”

by Madison Scott-Clary

Something about the phrase ‘ambulatory surgery’ left the scent of opposites hanging thick in Alex’s nose.

It certainly wasn’t actually an oxymoron, and yet here he was, sitting in the lobby,

trying to pick apart why the sign felt wrong to him.

He had spent the last two days running back and forth between the couch or bed

and the bathroom

as the surgery prep emptied him all out.

He had thought, at first, that he would be incredibly hungry

on this strict fluids only diet —

and then nothing but a sip of water with his meds this morning —

but some combination of the laxatives and nerves made the thought of food abhorrent,

and he had to force himself to stay hydrated as the

magnesium citrate worked its wonders on him.

Add in the six hour drive to Portland

and the complete inability to sleep during

the night before,

and it was no surprise that words and meaning were crowding uncomfortably inside his head.

“Alex? You ready?” He shook himself out of his reverie.

Liv was standing there, radiant as always,

with an efficient-looking nurse.

“Yeah.” They led him back to the pre-op room,

where the young wolf stripped out of his clothes and into a hospital gown.

They shaved the back of his hand

and got the IV line in place.

They gave him a pill to take ‘for his nerves’.

They introduced him to the anaesthesiologist, an intense and hulking bear.

They let him shake hands with the surgeon.

And then they left him alone with Liv.

“You okay, Alex?” He nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Was he? Was he anything?

He didn’t feel okay, but he didn’t feel not-okay.

“It feels what you say about flying.

How you get past security,

and then everything is suddenly

someone else’s responsibility,

and all you have to do

is let go and go along with what they say?”

Liv nodded. “It’s like that.”

“They told me to tell you you have until they come back for you to change your mind.”

The older wolf’s grin was sly.

“I told them if you didn’t keep going, I’d kick your ass.”

Alex laughed. “Why’s that?”

“You’ve been talking about this surgery non-stop for almost a year.

If I had to listen to you talk about it anymore, I think I’d go nuts.”

“Right.” He cupped spindly hands over his breasts beneath the gown.

The garment made him feel tiny,

young. “I’d probably go nuts, too.

It’ll be so nice to be rid of ‘em.”

Liv’s grin softened.

“I know.” And then they came to take him away.

They came to whisk him down an anonymous hallway.

They came to wheel him into the OR, a room nothing like what he was expecting.

They came to ask him what music he liked.

They came to give him an oxygen mask

to hold over his face.

And then he was truly in their hands.

This was “Morning Of”

by Madison Scott-Clary,

read for you by Rob MacWolf,

werewolf hitchhiker.

You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Happy Pride,

and thank you for listening

to The Voice of Dog.