SURGEONS

     Surgeons.  So much mystery.  So much wonder.  What makes them who they are?  What is the secret to this unshakable confidence?  Their bad-ass reputation and star-like quality makes them a focal point of the medical world.

     A slight breeze rustles the fallen leaves on the ground.  With a woosh, they swirl upward in preparation for the oncoming greatness.  U2's opening to Zoostation begins as, in slow motion, the green-scrub-clad legs step toward you.  Their pace is steady.  You are caught up like the leaves in this moment and all the world seems to shift into slow motion.  You trace upward as the music, the motion, the leaves rage onward and there, feet away from you . . . . is the surgeon.

     Today friends, today, I get a taste of the inside world of this Being of mythological proportions.  Today, I am THE SURGEON.  Are you curious?  Well, Its true.  I woke up feeling different.  In preparation for anesthesia, I was flustered, as you may recall.  I felt there was so much that could go wrong.  It didn't.  Anesthesia was great.  I got to micro-manage everything.  Subtle changes in gas administration, monitoring things at five minute intervals, my obsessive compulsive disorder was in full swing and on fire.  Today, I feel like I'm going to do my thing.  Could things go wrong?  Sure.  But I don't think it will.  The mysterious confidence has taken me over. . . . and I LIKE IT.