ambiguity

January 18, 2009

THIRTEEN

Filed under: Belles lettres — theinkhorn @ 2:43 am

“Scalpel.”

A nurse leaves a scalpel on my outstretched palm. I take it, hold it firm and position it near the left ventricle of her heart. I turn my head to look at her face. Her eyes are being held shut by tape, she has a tube down her throat, there’s blood and scratches all over, but she still looks like an angel. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and start making the incision.

“Doctor, your hand is shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re shaking. You shouldn’t be…..”

“I said i’m fine……”

Suddenly my arm feels moist. I look down and blood is squirting out of an artery. My gloves and scrubs are soaked, my scalpel looks its been dipped in red paint. I’m at a loss for words. I turn my head to look at the electrocardiogram. Her heart rate and blood pressure are dropping, fast.

“Fuck! Nurse stop the bleeding! Henry get out of the fucking way!”

Simon, who’s been watching from behind the whole time, takes the scalpel out of my hands, shoves me aside and starts wiping up the blood. Around the OR there is chaos. The nurses are scrambling to stop the bleeding. A scream tries to find its way out my vocal cords but my throat closes up and i can’t breathe. I start to feel a little faint so i move backwards to lean against the gallery window. Then i hear the flatline from the EKG. I look at Simon. He turns around.

“I’m sorry Henry.”

And right at the instant, i feel my world shatter into pieces, pieces into confetti, confetti into dust.

Advertisements

Leave a Comment »

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: