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[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row content_placement=”top”][vc_column][vc_custom_heading source=”post_title” font_container=”tag:h1|text_align:left|color:%231e73be” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_custom_heading text=”By Hannah Vaca, SPT” font_container=”tag:h4|text_align:left|color:%23000000″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1619210716673{padding-bottom: 30px !important;}”][vc_column_text]Download the article (pdf)[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]For James

Anxiety pumps through my veins
as I snap on gloves
and peer down.

The subclavius muscle should be located here.
The brachial artery could be palpated there.
The heart’s apex should be in the fifth intercostal space.

I notch the blade into place.
My own heart beating a mad rhythm.

Every cut, every pull, every bit
of force brings the hidden recesses
to light.

The gallbladder is colored a sickly green,
nerves weave in and out of muscles, and
arteries that once nourished calloused hands.

Deeper dissection unearths dark nodes—
black bread-crumbs trailing through the body,
terminating at the lungs. Deflated,

my hand stills.

A life,
quieted by death yet
opened before me,

generously telling his story
despite his pain, his weary bones,
and the cancer that riddled his body.

Death may separate our touch
but his gift will forever enlighten my life.
Though the formaldehyde may linger
long after I’ve said goodbye—

I will never forget my first patient
and the gift of his quieted breath.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row el_id=”author-about”][vc_column][vc_column_text]
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.[/vc_column_text][vc_custom_heading text=”About the Author(s)” font_container=”tag:h3|text_align:left” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][/vc_column][/vc_row]