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Here’s to the internet. To entertainment. To Television. To shows. Here’s to bingeing Television shows via the medium of the internet for the purposes of entertainment. Here’s to drama. To doctors. To blood and brain tumors. The prognosis. The fight, the race against the clock, the race against time. The ability to stop the hunger of sickness. The thirst of grief. To find the broken of the gear and give the tick its sound again. Here’s to standing, even when alone. In solidarity. In famine. Even when flanked by doubt, and fear, and rage and the echo’s of ‘you don’t compromise a little on having a baby.’ Here’s to the circulation. The concentric movements of life’s passageways. Here’s to saving. Saving a life. Two lives. Three lives. A multitude of lives. To always saving others. To saving ourselves. Here’s to train wrecks, and plane crashes. To lost shoes, and hearts in boxes. Here’s to pick me. choose me. lose me. To the General Surgeon who is anything but general. The Orthopedic Surgeon who has super glued and duck taped herself together. The Cardio Surgeon misnomered as heartless.  The Trauma Surgeon with the softest core. The thoughtless Neuro Surgeon. Here’s to Grey, all three. And Sheppard. Yang, and Burke, and Hunt. Altman. Bailey. Webber. Kerev. Sloan. O’Mally. Torres. Stevens. Montgomery. Robbins. Avery. Wilson. And Kepner. Here’s to all of them. The Carousels that never stops turning. 

 

January 2nd, 2018