Ecce Mortis: The Condition: Bad To The Bone-marrow

Two doctors, a woman and boyish intern, came to sample my bone marrow.

Worst pain experienced, this body, to date.  Flat-belly to cold metal, sanitary paper in between.

Intern, under doctor’s direction, numbed my lower-back and pelvis.  Three incredibly sharp syringes of novocaine felt cold steel then stone.  Hard lump of lumbar, barely sentient  Next harpooned me with a thicker — orders of magnitude thicker — cork-screw type instrument, extracted a sample.

Chips of bone, chunks of marrow.

Sequence: pain, numbness, pain again.

And painful was the  sound  of The Student  reproached for having botched the job.

“No, no. This sample is useless.  Redo the procedure,” said The Older Doctor.

Now pain numbness and anticipation of more pain numbness.

Deep breath.   Repeat ordeal.   Samples of my Me.  Floating in  fluid.  Tiny glass vial.

Doctor, Intern, chattering, gone.

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