![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
levityOkay, so sometimes it happens that you meet someone and you know that by dint of their very existence they are going to break your heart, and you are going to store up every single fucking second of theirs that you can get and you are actually going to be grateful for it, because you get to see their real smiles alongside their public ones, and your friends giggling and making vomiting noises and side comments in the background are just setting the scene, and all the absurd metaphors pop songs come up with are completely accurate, only you don't really want to be thinking about metaphors. And maybe one day you'll look up to the sound of your screen door being yanked open from where it sticks to your floor and they'll step in, drenched in sweat and looking both like a mess and the treble after six trophyless years, and there won't be fireworks; and you're not sure if your greatest fear is that day coming around, or that it never will.
---
I should be talking about cadavers. I should be talking about the fact that it makes me ridiculously happy that they're blessed before dissection starts, because- I am paraphrasing a professor here- they are our first patients and our best teachers and you show them respect, dammit. I should be talking about how I was never really interested in medicine or in anatomy, but I can start skinning a cadaver, with all the effort that entails- and it's a lot of effort, bladework and formalin resistance and the right mix of cautiousness and impulse- and I understand the fascination with the complicated slobbery intricate shambling machine that is the human body. I am, I guess, but I am not sure I can do justice to the way you have to dance around the skin of the fingers because they're dessicated by the time you get to them and you don't want to take out any muscle, or to the feel of cutting through and pulling apart muscles and thinking, Hey, this is me.
---
I should be talking about cadavers. I should be talking about the fact that it makes me ridiculously happy that they're blessed before dissection starts, because- I am paraphrasing a professor here- they are our first patients and our best teachers and you show them respect, dammit. I should be talking about how I was never really interested in medicine or in anatomy, but I can start skinning a cadaver, with all the effort that entails- and it's a lot of effort, bladework and formalin resistance and the right mix of cautiousness and impulse- and I understand the fascination with the complicated slobbery intricate shambling machine that is the human body. I am, I guess, but I am not sure I can do justice to the way you have to dance around the skin of the fingers because they're dessicated by the time you get to them and you don't want to take out any muscle, or to the feel of cutting through and pulling apart muscles and thinking, Hey, this is me.
