I was staring at nothing in particular, past the folded paper towels, rubber bands, and 12 inch blades. The work station coughed out a steady whir as fans sucked chemical fumes from the air.
“Visiting hours have now ended.”
I snapped back. The announcement meant it was 8pm already and I wasn’t nearly done. I rolled my head to fix tired eyes upon a small pile of fresh organs in containers that needed to be dissected and added to large volumes of preservative.
My apron was stained with green ink and my gloves, with drying blood and tumor fragments. I leaned forward and positioned the splayed uterus for a photo. Wow, there’s a lot of tumor here. Goes deep too. I snapped the photo and added my notes to the information system.
Hi, I’m Chevanne. I realize I haven’t quite told you about myself outside writing. I don’t believe what people do is who they are, so calling myself a “healthcare leader” is enough. But it’s time to peer a bit behind the curtain for a moment.
I dissect specimens excised from surgical procedures. Got a mass in your arm? I will cut it and submit a portion to be embedded in wax and cut thinly to put sections on a slide. That slide goes to a physician who will examine the tissue architecture and other characteristics before rendering a diagnosis.
I also do autopsies. As in, I open up dead bodies. Yes, I know. You’re curious and horrified. First, I take a close look at your body. I note scars and tattoos. I fill out a diagram of all medical intervention devices. I look at the condition of your teeth and the whites of your eyes. Your body is naked, so there’s no hiding that penis pump or belly button ring. It all goes on the report. Then I take a sharp surgical blade and make a Y incision, starting at the front of the shoulders to the sternum, then down to the groin.
I could go on about how exactly I remove your entire bowel, but I’m sure you get the point. It’s messy.
Recently I’ve been feeling like the walking dead. Maybe it’s the long hours or the amount of cases, the decision fatigue, the frustration… but I’m tapped out. My inbox of newsletters is piling up and my audiobooks remain paused. “How are you?”is turning into an existential question.
I’m used to getting this way, conditioning myself over time to more and more rigor, but it’s harder for me to be proactive. Rather than crawl into the next newsletter bleary eyed and groaning, I’m going to take a breather. Hopefully I’ll be back in October with my opus for the year, Ithaka, which is shaping up nicely. There’s a lot to still build, but I’m already learning a lot about longer compositions. I’ll be sharing something next month as a prelude to that composition.
So not just The FLARE, but the exhausted person behind it, is taking a break. As always, I’m available at theflare@substack.com if you want to chat or talk about future projects or collaborations. You can also leave a comment and let me know how you’ve been doing.
don't burn out / nothing is that important to lose your personal sense of peace over / i keep telling myself
Hang in there! Rest up, and we'll see you in October. In the meantime, I hope to see you on my page when you can. Maybe some of my picks will help.