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Breaking the Code
Tim Van Ert
Arch Fam Med. 1995;4(6):491.
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She feared a physician's intrusion— lung cancer terror voiced with still eyes. I chose to assist her surgeon with the neck-node biopsy; was drafted to assist her fate's savage bite. Her sweat-spent face sagged toward purpling right hand as the gaping trench we dug finally let loose her lump, then fired back its red missiles. Panic sparked through our guts fueled by routine's dry tinder. "Unfair!" my clenched teeth screamed when I saw her dusky fist seize our sterile barrier. Then, "Flat line—stand back!" from chest's spongy twitch and sickening heavy bounce. Pus-filled lungs and clammy groin were quickly invaded by blades, needles and tubes— while my mind grew thicker, "We gotta stick her..." She did not say goodbye or where she wanted to go. Death spills the suffering life contains. This afternoon her pain passed on; trenchant hours measured to me, lifelong pangs for her children. With quiet whispers
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Author Affiliations
Selah, Wash
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