Corridor

This week, I oper­ated on a woman who was bleed­ing, severely. I stood beside her on the way down to surgery, and I told her things were seri­ous. There is a look that we (humans) get when fac­ing down mor­tal­ity. It is a grim know­ing, an adrenaline-surged fear, and also a strange and for­eign resolve or even peace. It is all there in a per­son who thinks they are going to die. She said lit­tle, smiled a lit­tle, asked me to do my best.

She awak­ened from surgery in the recov­ery room, and I was stand­ing nearby and said: ”hello”. She said: ”Am I dead?” I was glad that she had not entered into a crazy loop in which the cur­rent world was the world shefound her­self in, only hav­ing died. I was also glad that I was not the one wait­ing for her at the end of the that shaft of light, the tun­nel, that peo­ple always talk about. I said: ”no, you are here”. Prob­a­bly not the most help­ful answer, but she got the message.

That look on the face of some­one on the brink of the end is so amaz­ing and brave. It is noble. It always makes me proud to be one of us (humans).

Port­land, Sep­tem­ber 2010, Nikon D700