Op Note VIII
I immediately found a good plane of dissection. One realm simply fell away from the other. Clavipectoral fascia. White line of Toldt. Space of Retzius. All completely bloodless. As if the various compartments had been individually wrapped in cellophane. Scissors shearing along Christmas paper in skating linear strips. One plane opened up into another. Like peeling layers of onions. But I wasn’t getting anywhere. Just gliding between the pre-partitioned. Moving about in the borderland frontiers. At some point you have to go against the grain. Sink your teeth into something bitter. Cut across the striations of the soft and warm and beating. Leave a jagged tear that spreads in your wake. This is how it hurts. This is when it begins to bleed. It’s the only way to get anything meaningful done. Otherwise you’re just traipsing across ice. Tossing the heads of daisies into swift rivers. Watching.