By Andrew Oh
That’s short for formaldehyde.
Dying of a fatal arrhythmia at 94,
Al was a grandfather,
a lover of tattoos,
and my first patient.
When I first met him,
he was lying face-up on
cold steel.
He spread his arms out,
and invited us into his space.
When I cut too deep
into his abdomen,
or failed to separate the fascia
between his muscles,
he was always patient with me,
never raising his voice
or rolling his eyes.
He showed me the web-like muscle network
of dilated cardiomyopathy
and what it smells like
when you perforate the bowel.
On our final day in the lab,
I walked over to table 9,
Al’s resting space,
temporary home,
and last place I’ll see him.
“Thank you” I whispered,
and zipped his bag shut.
Andrew Oh is an MS4 at University of Washington School of Medicine.