Ashley G.
Professor Zoller
Life Narratives
10/30/2012
The Knife
The
first paragraph of this essay scared me. The language used made the author
sound like a serial killer who took joy from slicing people up. Much to my
relief the essay was in fact about a surgeon and not an ax murderer. I don’t
like surgery or needles. I can make it through a hospital drama on TV nut only if
I avert my eyes for the “messy” parts. If I have to get a shot I freak out, my
palms sweat and I get fidgety. I have to get a shot in a few months and I’m
dreading it. I used to think that I didn’t mind needles but a shot for college
a few months ago put me over the edge. I had my wisdom teeth out a year or so
ago, I was only on laughing gas so I was slightly coherent; I can still
remember the sensation of the doctor sawing my teeth in order to take them out.
Ugh, it still sends shivers up my spine. That’s the most intense surgery I’ve
ever had and I can’t imagine being put completely under. I think I would have a
panic attack, literally. I will never understand why people would ever want to
be a surgeon. I know it’s a noble profession but seriously the thought of
cutting into someone and putting your hand inside of them freaks me out. So I
say hat’s off to surgeons for having the guts (pun intended) to do what the
rest of us can’t: save lives and take out wisdom teeth.
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