Nov 09, 2013 - 3:45 pm
I happened to see my surgeon in the elevator at my doctor's office the last time I visited. Said "hello", chatted for a bit, and then went on my way.
Then I got this funny feeling...that guy knows me (at least the physical me) more intimately than anyone else in the world.
He has seen the nooks and crannies of my body, and spent hours on several occasions rummaging around in there, seeing what's what up close.
He piled my intestines ON A TABLE and looked at each section like an embroiderer admiring a new length of ribbon.
I've never been able to figure out he gets all those miles of guts back in, in the correct place...I can't even repack a suitcase.
(I once dreamed, while under the influence of post-surgery drugs, of a zombie doctor, snacking as he worked, but I'm pretty sure this guy doesn't do that)
Anyway, it made me wonder how people ever become surgeons in the first place.
To have our lives literally in their hands, to handle the human body without flinching...it's pretty amazing.
I don't know how anybody does it, but I am VERY grateful that there are men and women out there who can pull this off.
I have the feeling that many of us here owe our lives to these folks.
Ramblingly yours, AA