Through the looking glass

Got to read to a patient this week. Every week before this she had been too engaged with the struggle to stay alive to speak with someone new.  I knew her name, but had no sense of the person.  This time - awake, alive, color in her cheeks.  Her body still wasted and weak, but clearly this was a new day.  We agreed that Alice in Wonderland would be nice.  I read the first chapter - pausing together to appreciate how perfect the metaphor of the rabbit hole was for her current situation and for life generally.  What would it take to greet suffering with Alice's eyes:  Curious and curiouser.