The Surgeon

by Zach Schreckenberger

am I,

the surgeon,

excising 

these existential days,

my meticulous, maladaptive ways –

worry 

whirling 

sprawling upon my blade, or

brewing like a bruit,

turbulent, in my brain?

can I

tighten all the knots

around these circumferential thoughts,

pushing each down with a double-gloved finger –

throw, after throw, after throw,

until no longer bleeding, or

bubbling to the surface?

the heavy heave of a heart in a cage,

beating back against the clawing, gnawing pain

of loss and longing –

a frenzied friction rub of fear,

of failure. 

anxiety 

frothing to the mouth in

an endless emesis of “what-ifs” –

next question

next problem

next headache

next mistake. 

catastrophizing contemplation,

a perfectionist pulsatile tinnitus,

until a hand on my shoulder

shakes me from this crisis –

a mindful moment to breathe,

an elusive, strange reprieve

that splinters through the stress

with empathy, love and belonging,

feeling heard and seen, 

like irrigating saline, 

clears the cognitive distortion –

gratitude granulates around my wounds, 

capillaries carrying

connection, renewed –

until finally sutured and secure,

I exhale once more.

Image Source: Unsplash

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Zach Schreckenberger is a fourth-year medical student at the UTCOMLS.

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