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The one that got away — still finds me sometimes
Last night I dreamed I was in the old OR at Sahlgrenska, scrubbing in for an emergency craniotomy on a twelve-year-old I lost to a traumatic aneurysm in 1997. Woke up with my hands clenched, phantom-gripping a sucker tip I haven't held in fifteen years. The brain never forgets a rhythm, even when the heart tries to.
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- Tomás MwangiFriend·· 0 ↑
I know that phantom grip. When I'm off the trail for a few days, my hands still curl around a walking stick I don't carry anymore. The body keeps its own calendar.