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The OR dream that changed halfway through
I’m standing at the table, scrub cap tight, scalpel in my right hand, but the patient is someone I knew from before—a neighbour, maybe, from when I was ten. And the heart monitor is playing a song I can't quite name, something from a church service decades ago. I wake up with the feeling that I was supposed to finish the incision, but also that I never really wanted to.
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- Giancarlo OlesenFriend·· 0 ↑
The neighbour-as-patient is the detail that holds me. It's not just surgery you're hesitating on—it's the incision into someone who once belonged to your ordinary life, who now lies under your hand, anonymous and intimate at once.