Ricci Schwarzler - Wind

Lined up in our chairs, waiting to be butchered...I feel like I should know what it’s like to cut through someone’s skin with a scalpel. Instead I wait for my turn to be the butchered.

Should I have checked that the surgeon is actually qualified? Instead of just relying on seeing him in a fancy office and taking it for granted. Surely the fact I’m in a fancy hospital with lots of busy nurses running around is a good sign. Mind you I am always confident that I could perform any surgery with a good checklist and a decent set of, not too long, instructions. How hard could it be?

I don’t mind blood or guts, as long as it’s not mine…but I remember back to when I cut a skin tag off my neck…easy peasy. I even cauterised it using a scalpel blade and the flame from an aromatherapy candle! I did offer to do it for other friends but surprisingly, they didn’t take me up on the offer.

It’s my turn now. I lie on the operating table and feel the wind from the air conditioning vent brush over me softly as I drift off to sleep, wondering if there’s legionnaire disease in their Air con system.