Doorways

Surgery Rotation Day #2:

Today was a hard day. With the recent loss of a friend and classmate settling in, I considered, like many others in my class, staying home. It felt like the right thing to do. But then I thought of this friend, of Liza, of her whispering in my ear, "Go, go now! Don't be a dumb ass!" and I put my shoes on, one at a time...

At the hospital, I drifted through rounds, I hadn't slept well last night. But then an urgent case came up. Suddenly, I was scrubbing in at the cardio-thoracic surgeon's elbow. I was all too aware that passing out in the surgical field could christen me "the fainter" for the rest of my rotation--something I desperately wanted to avoid.

But what happened next, I couldn't have anticipated: I watched mesmerized as the surgeon cut down through the skin, muscle, and past the ribs. I watched him spread the chest like a flower. I watched so many things happen there were moments when I know I wasn't breathing. And then I had a heart to heart conversation, about life and loss, about friendship and love, with the surgeon and a surgical PA....while I placed one of my hands on the sturdy bones of an elderly woman--our patient--and the other hand the surgeon guided into the woman's chest. He urged me to feel her heart beating. His own face was one of utter amazement. No matter how many times I imagine he has done this I still heard him whisper, "Amazing." And I placed my palm there--where all of the life and memory and meaning of this woman's vivid and unique existence coursed through her.

I didn't faint. I didn't even blink. What I did do was something I have only done a handful of times in my life--I fell in love. It is true, it really is: The human body is a masterpiece, inside and out. Dear Surgery, who would have thought you would make me feel this way?

And, most of all, thank you, LB, for helping to get my ass out the door.