Surgery Day 3
Fuck.
It’s 5pm on a Wednesday
When the patient becomes the nuisance
5pm, that rocky transition from the patients I took care of
back home to the people I would die for
5pm when the hearts sink at the sound of the pager
For my sake not his, and I quickly hate myself for it
Self care and self hate in one ticking time bomb
He says he doesn’t want the surgery
Silence in a room of white coats
and I’m too stunned to appreciate that rarity
His smile is peaceful, understanding
and we are children
My senior came armored with an arsenal of
post-operative complication for someone like him
A soul betrayed by his body
Welcoming death as we relentlessly pushed it away
He was peaceful, understanding and we cried
The room door closed behind us and our tears had dried
5pm...but I felt no relief
I heard chatter about salmon and brussel sprouts for dinner
Like the stink of the resident work room
But nobody wanted to talk about it you know?
“Stupid feelings” was the assessment, and the plan was to
Shove that rotting corpse in the closet and never think about it again
Seriously, its not there, I don’t see it
But I go numb from that smell
6pm and I cancelled my dinner date and I cancelled my appetite
She’s not eating much because she gets diarrhea every time she tries
Not for days or weeks but months and years.
She’s thin like a child, curled up in a ball
My partner asks for her story, with some authoritative interruptions
he domineers with his healthy body
And she sobs to me when he is gone. One broken soul to another.
And I think she is relieved to find tears in my eyes
When she tells me she wants to die
They ask me for her story and I say
“She wants to die”
and I know they’ve gotten used to the stink when they
smile, like I’m the one who’s a child. “Oh I know.”
Because if she died, their eyes would be dry by the time the room door closed
And I wonder why
they sacrifice
their lives to serve, If they cared so little for her suffering
And i’m silent while he presents the patient.
7pm and I listen to an old Hindi love song on the drive back
“I have become your lover, keep me in your eyes
Every moment that passes tells my lips I must say something
about you. I wish I could but live in your shadows.”
And you knew from the way he sings,
He cares so much about her, it would kill him if she died.
But what good is a dead doctor?
