I hate it because it's cruel. I hate it because it's indiscriminate. I hate it because it is sucking the ever loving life out of a beautiful soul and there absolutely nothing I can do about it.
I'm a fixer. I always have been. Something breaks, I fix it--or at the very least, break it proper so there ain't no fixin.
I fix things for a living. Cold? Let there be warm blankets! Broken ankle? Poof! Hardware. Heart doesn't want to beat? No problem. I will shock it into submission.
And I was happy tonight, wrapped securely in my sociopathic bubble, enjoying the taste of diet Sunkist and pondering the outcome of the dissecting AAA being offloaded from our chopper landing pad.
But then, for some reason, the fates decided to up and pee in my Cheerios.
I found myself working on a girl--someone scarcely a woman--already riddled with scars and twisted by Chemo; someone who has not experienced a single placid moment in her young life, and as she allowed the anesthesia meds to lovingly coax her away from the waking world, she clung to my hand (I am not a hand holder, typically) like the child she is and wept. Just as the propofol and succs numbed her tongue, she looked me in the eye and breathed, "It's not fair."
And I felt a chink form in my mental armor. It left me breathless and a touch reeling. She came into sharp relief in that moment; not to say that I didn't see her before....but I didn't see
her. Suddenly there she was: the scarf lovingly, painstakingly wrapped around her chemical stripped head, her lips blistered and her skin sallow. And alone. Totally alone.
I'll be honest...I don't know why I'm posting this here. I don't know why she seems to have wormed her way into my subconscious to reside right next to the mental image of my first procurement patient with her tiny blush-pink chipped nail polish covered fingers and toes, or the first patient I ever lost on the table. I don't know.
I guess, in some strange capacity, I don't want her to be alone or forgotten.
If you managed to survive my rambling idiocy to reach this point, thanks for hearing me out. Sincerely yours,
Your Friendly Neighborhood Sociopath