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Did I weaken that much in just one week? Only partially correct. Because I actually had quite a bit of surgery and the help of other doctors in the operating room to make it through those thirty-six hours — and even so, I was in excruciating pain. When the CT scans and the test results confirmed my fear, because they showed not only cancer but also physical exhaustion, almost death, would this relieve me? am I free from duty, duty to patient, to neurosurgery, to the pursuit of noble things? Yes, I think, and here’s the paradox: like an athlete reaching the finish line and then falling apart, when no longer having to take care of the patient pushes me forward, I become disabled. Chihuahua keep door closed doormat Is there a better way to understand it than to live in it? But I’m not sure how difficult it will be, how many terrains I need to explore, shape, and stop by. I often imagine a doctor’s job as something that connects two parts of a railroad track to ensure a smooth ride for a patient. I never thought that facing my own death could be so disorienting and lopsided. I think of my younger self, who may have wanted to “forge human conscience in my crucible”; Looking into my soul now, even if I let my conscience be forged, there is only a brittle tool and a weak fire.
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Switching to a skull cutter, an edge drill, I joined the holes together, releasing a large portion of the bone. Thanks to the opening, I pulled it out. A silvery sclera lay there. Luckily I haven’t destroyed it with a drill; a rudimentary mistake of a beginner. I used a sharp knife to open the dura without damaging the brain. Continued success. I started to let myself go. The dura mater is temporarily attached posteriorly with small sutures to keep it out during major surgical steps. The brain beats softly and sparkles. The great Sylvian artery runs across the top of the temporal lobe, full of freshness. The familiar peach wisps of the brain like waving a hand. Chihuahua keep door closed doormat That night, the dean took me back to the hotel after dinner. He stopped the car and pulled over to the side of the road. “Let me show you this,” he said. We went out and stood in front of the hospital, looking across a frozen lake, the far shore glittering with lights from the buildings. “In the summer, you can swim or row to work. In winter, do you skate or skateboard?”
“OK.” she said. “Alright. You can stop neurosurgery if you want to focus on something more important. But it won’t be because he’s sick. He wasn’t sicker than he was last week. This is a pothole on the way, but he can still keep the current trajectory. Neurosurgery is important to you.” Lucy and I meet Emma on Monday. She reaffirmed the plan we had planned: bronchial biopsy, looking for the targeted mutation, if not, chemotherapy. The real reason I was there was her guidance. I said I would give up neurosurgery. Chihuahua keep door closed doormat I lay on the small bed and smiled back, looking at her belly. There will be a lot of absences in Lucy and my daughter’s lives — if this is the dark presence I can be, so be it. “But if the cancer reappears… I mean, the probabilities…” I paused. The first round of treatment (Tarceva) failed. The second round of treatment (chemo) almost killed me. The third round of treatment, if I can get there, holds little promise. In addition, there are countless unknown experimental treatments. Doubt slipped out of her mouth, “I mean, go back to the operating room, or maybe walk, or even –”
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