Blood
“There was a moment (1…2…3…) where I thought that I had gotten away with it. And then, no. The blood begin to flow; I had knicked an artery with my number 15. My lips had been stuck together with dried saliva, but a single prayer managed to escape: ‘Oh shit, Lord.’ Heart began to sprint. Blood came faster. A panic of silence filled the room.
Five years of medical school. Three years to specialize. 231 attending operations. 122 lead surgeries. Successes beyond expectation, praise beyond measure, but just one cold truth: Jane, my true love, was lying on my operating table, dying.”
-excerpt from my autobiography: “God’s Hands. My Knife.”
