Wednesday, March 16, 2022

poem

 Op Note XVII

She’s finally agreed to the operation.  The original plan was to remove a tumor, maybe her gallbladder, her spleen.  It was never quite clear.  She wasn't nervous at all.  She smiled and said thank you doctor. Do what you must. Someone would help her at last. She trusted us implicitly.  But instead of a tumor we took out an apple, a pear.  A glazed ham.  A slice of peach cobbler. We were ravenous and incurious. This is what we had come to do.  All those years of training.  It was delicious.  We fed like famished wolves.  We ought to have been more grateful for such unexpected bounty. She would feel so much better.  Afterward, in recovery, the patient smiled sleepily and said thank you doctor.  Someone had helped her at last. But no one heard her soft wan voice.  We had turned to see what was next.  Our stomachs were already beginning to growl.

3/16/22

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