Mad About Medicine Anonymous

His skin detached from its threadlike bindings to unveil a unique color palette. Excess blood flooded the area, only to be extracted by a contraption of assorted tubes. Muscle tissue, each fiber visible, danced around bones and ligaments to the heart’s metronome. The patient is sprawled across an adjustable bed draped in azure sheets, indistinguishable in color from the metal-wielding committee proceeding around him. An assortment of screens monitor his vital and sedative levels, constantly fluctuating throughout the operation. Millimeters of metal penetrate, slice, and contort the torn ligament, as titanium screws fuse with bone to function as pillars to the delicate structure. Nylon and polypropylene web fasten the intentional laceration. The tear in the dorsal region of his left scapholunate ligament is repaired. Fascinated and curious, I marvel at the genius orchestrating before me.

Days traversing rickety playgrounds inevitably led to my fair share of injuries, both witnessed and experienced. Cowering at the pain of a splinter’s incision and wincing at molten pavement scraping the skin off my kneecaps gave me the opportunity to observe the magical healing properties of the human body. I then assumed the role of doctor and...