Our First Patient

There is a part of me amazed, a part of me penitent. I am sorry to drag a blade down the middle of your chest, and then to the side, peeling away the first layer of skin and fat. I am sorry to cut through your skin with no intention of sewing it back together again. I am sorry that one of us will crack your ribs, one by one, and watch our professor use a loud saw to separate your sternum. I am sorry that between my cringing, I am still curious, still excited to see what lies beneath. I am sorry that we change our scalpel blades when they get dulled on your body, so that they are sharp again. Continue reading Our First Patient