Donnerstag, 10. Jun 2010, 8:34
Dear you, best friend:
If I punched myself in the face for every time I got angry at myself for not making proper contact with you, I'd be a permanent installment in hospital, along with the crappy fake flowers and the disinfectant.
The trouble is, you'd probably be in the ward next to me, cracking your stupid jokes and that grin that I've always found so hard to resist. We've both been to emergency before, we know the situation well. We operate - defibrillation for our broken hearts, lobotomies for our addled minds, dresses for lacerations.
Nothing like hospital retail therapy.
But no matter how agonising or bloody or gruesome or embarrassing or emotional surgery between you and me often gets, you've made the great operation that is life the single most human experience that I've ever had. It's only when I'm on the brink of dying on the operating table that I feel the greatest urge to fight as a testament to the wonderful work that you do.
And it's this makeshift practice that we've both acquired in lessons of triumph and disaster that makes me know that you'll be a wonderful surgeon one day. I will travel the world and extend the universal goodwill you have installed within me - a new heart.
Operate on me always as I will continue to spark life in you.
"My mind tells
me to give up, but my heart
won't let me."
