By Morgan Wood
Unnerving. That is a word.
Repulsive. That is another.
Revolting. Another decent word.
Do they describe my practice? Some would use them. I would not.
The blade cuts deep into the sternum of the cadaver. Soon the torso is open. Then there are the organs, bits of human gently placed on the table. Treat what is left. It is a delicate procedure. And I am a master craftsman.
Stitch up the torso. One stitch. Two stitch. Bloody red stitch. Too messy. I can do better. My apprentice looks at me, smile nervous. They must learn to be just like me.
Perfect.
Quite vivid imagery; morbid; well-done. Good job.
“Quilting” – another word.
This could have been the chief of pathology I observed in 1962. Some things never change. A certain type drawn to this work? Good look into the heart and soul of the practitioner. Honesty in few words. Good imagery. Fine job.
The way I read it, the practitioner was full of glee. Doing what they lived to do. I especially like the bit about the apprentice. A good piece.