There are worse things to be than a chicken Col Stephen H Sanders
Friday 6 58 a m I was sweating I was sweating profusely My forehead was glistening Rivers were running down my back Even my knees were sweating The room was dark except for a high powered lamp that illuminated the patient lying in front of me Bryce Wagner was sitting off to the side his face in the shadows Richard O’Rourke was sitting on the other side of the table Behind him in the darkness of the room the crowd was watching Are you just going to sit there and sweat Harker Wagner asked leaning into the light His pasty skin was dry He wasn’t sweating at all I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and looked down at the patient Strange things were happening at the edge of my vision The air was shimmering I’d been awake for too long Slow and steady O’Rourke said angling the lamp a little I leaned over the patient until my nose was only two inches from the chest cavity Slow and steady O’Rourke repeated I lowered my hand toward the opening and eased the tweezers into the patient When I was sure that I had a firm grip on the heart I took a deep breath and began the
