The port is out

The port is out.  With some cutting and slashing of fibrous tissue formed over two years, the port and I are now free of each other.

It is always good to be with other medical people, especially when they are working. I know I have recently commented on the comfort of familiarity.  That could be part of the pleasure, but I think only part.

On Monday as the conversation turned,  I was struck once more with the special relationship we have with the body. Whether in words or atmosphere, the awe we hold for the power of the regenerative capacities of organic stuff is always expressed.  I know there are those outside the profession who at various times have similar experiences. For the "healers" it is a daily event.

If  gifts and communication I receive are any indicator,  most folks imagine we love disease and the morbid. No more doctor books please. The loving intent is cherished but I like my own material. (smiles)

It's really almost an aesthetic thing.  Our role is to recognize the when and the cause of a picture not in balance. In fact I commented to my surgeon friend at work freeing the tissue that; "There are two people I never second guess, my hair dresser and my surgeon."

The hopeful healer,  recruiting the powers of vitality,  arranges the "reparative motif. That is enough.