Anesthesiologist’s Recollection of Transplant Surgeon’s Dream: A Haibun

Closing my eyes for a moment, I imagine her riding her bicycle late that afternoon, happily returning home from her first day of work, the early summer breeze caressing her face. her name, Miriam, on Earth just seventeen years— Amish innocent Distracted by something trivial: an eastern gray squirrel scampering along the roadside, or the undulating flight of a black-capped chickadee overhead, Miriam heeds not the stop sign, as she pedals across a busy country crossroad. Screech of panic braking—then deep thud. Miriam's unhelmeted head shatters the windshield. Does she feel any pain? unseen, unseemly, icy, kiss of death, on lips— unsuspecting soul Medevac to our hospital, the black pupils of Miriam's pale blue eyes are blown: fixed and dilated, her pale blonde hair matted with rusted blood. Neurosurgeon swiftly opens her cracked skull, sucks out big clot—in faint hope of saving her swollen brain, her fractured fairy tale. Miriam never regains consciousness. What was her last goodbye? three hot, humid days later, Miriam declared— finally, brain dead With no other major trauma, Miriam's else perfect body lies motionless on ventilator in ICU. Ultimate gift to perfect strangers—greatest act of grace under pressure—her parents agree to donate their daughter's vital organs. Organ harvests so often take place in bewitching, wee hours after midnight. This time is no exception. harvest full moon shines bright that night, God looking down— sending archangels As anesthesiologist, I stand watch over her, as three transplant teams partake in Miriam's metaphoric organ harvest. Marvel at those precious organs, fully mature yet because of her unadulterated life cut short, still so pristine—a transplant surgeon's dream. no joy, no laughter, no music, only whispers— solemn gaze, focused gestures Her loving heart given and taken, Miriam legally dies, in operating room, in early morning hours on Independence Day. No need for celebratory fireworks that next still sultry night. instead envision blessed reincarnation— Miriam lives on