Estoy realizando una melodía.

We were called about a lady with a chronic skin condition the other day. She was covered with lesions, almost like hard pebbles deep beneath the superficial layers of the skin. And she scratched. She scratched so desperately looking for relief. We weren't called about these bumps though. On the back of her left shoulder was a large raised area with a pin-point spot that would produce a bead of pus when massaged. I took a blade and cut down to the pocket of pus collecting beneath the skin. It was deep and the layers of subcutaneous tissue were so scarred and fibrotic from her condition that to break up the loculations of the abscess was like having to rake against entangled branches. I raked until the blood was no longer mixed with fresh pus, then I packed the cavity.

We were called back to the lady's bedside a few hours later. She was still bleeding. I took down the mountain of dressing the nurse had taped across this lady's back in an attempt to cover up the growing spot of red originating from the I&D site. One thing a surgery resident very quickly learns is to not be afraid of is bleeding. All Bleeding Stops. So I took my knuckles and dug them into the skin overlying the abscess cavity and held pressure. And there we stayed. For the next 15 min she sat on the edge of her bed with her head hanging down and me standing behind her leaning into the pressure I was creating against her shoulder.

At one point I started humming. It was unsolicited, unplanned and before I could catch myself the first few bars had blown past my vocal cords. But even more surprising... the second I caught myself and stopped the lady carried on. It was the same low halting hum that I had initiated, but without a doubt it was the same hymn and she had picked up exactly where I had left off. We finished together.

Much Love.