Why Didn’t It Happen to Me?

She hemorrhaged, flat-lined, and convulsed in the same breath. I lost grip of the forceps and took a step back. Shouts filled the OR and a seven year old coded before me. Nurses, techs, doctors pushed me out the way. I watched as a unit attempted the impossible, failed the impossible, embraced the impossible. Dead. Four-thirty seven.
It wasn’t the gross undulation that broke me. It was gentle voice in my head reminding me I had cancer too.

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