Category: Fiction
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The company of butchers
John Graham-PoleAntigonish, Canada It’s 5am. I peer through fast-revolving doors and eye the light skim of snowfall. I’m aware of a deep shiver. It’s the breeze flapping my skimpy white coat, right? Don’t kid yourself, rank fear is what this is. This is my first 24-hour stint as a surgical dresser. This allegedly thrilling moment…
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A fine notion
Ruth Z. DemingWillow Grove, Pennsylvania, USA Think of the worst disease imaginable. That’s what I’ve got. ALS, Lou Gehrig’s. One of 30,000 Americans. Me, a chaired professor of law at Temple University. Maple Oaks has a good reputation. I signed the reams of papers to get in. But, damn, it takes a long time for…
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The cutting edge
Richard SpicerBristol, England The baby was going to be fine. The tumor was now in the lab, the blood loss was minimal, and it was now time to close the chest. Closing time always introduced a change of mood; everyone relaxed, and the conversation even became light-hearted. His registrar,1 Mark, and his house officer,2 Saskia,…
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The Gone-A-Gram
Joel L. ChinitzPhiladelphia Physicians for Social Responsibility, Pennsylvania, United States “Have I got this right? When you . . . eh . . . reach eighty points . . . you’re gone.” “Yes sir. That’s right.” “But if you have seventy-nine . . . you’re still here.” Harry Crenshaw looked into the faces around the…
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Into the jungle
Benjamin LiMichigan United States *Note: All characters and events are fictional. A sliver of dawn snuck beneath the blinds and stretched across the floor to where I stood, illuminating the pale, white tile. In the middle of the room, curled beneath a pile of covers, a young girl inhaled a deep, heavy sleep. The advancing…
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Shrapnel
Christopher J. SchayerNew Haven, Connecticut His gloved hand grazed lightly the bulbous edges of my abdominal scars. My entire left flank, once lean and muscular, is now rippled with nodules of scar tissue and adhesions. I was not his average patient and as his fingers traversed the lumpy terrain of my abdomen, he began to…
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The Secret War
Bryant Phan Oakland, CA, USA I. War Factories When the war settled, Papa left but his ghost still slept in our apartment. The first few months after he stormed out, Mama cried herself into a steel mill of a woman. She is big-boned, hot tempered, and heaves like a factory during a busy sunrise. At the…