Life in the United States depends on three factors. The first is genetic factors, beautiful people tend to be more successful, socioeconomic factors, the 20 percent usually get their way. Religious factors, the most apparent religion holds sway for ethical values unless they give it all away. This is life in the continental forty eight, and the rule has nearly been the same since the beginning of history. Without causing a national uproar in a democratic, capitalistic country where the good old dollar holds sway, whoever has it. The true people , the fifty percent of us that work for a living and pray every day that their children can attend college and land a good job, don’t get a good shake of the culture that is happening.
The rulers of the financial fiefdom, want their children to be rulers too, and this is nepotism
The clergy of the predominant religion want their children to be successful and this is nepotism too. The professionals, who attend expensive graduate schools field a closed shop, and for the most part, to be a professional, a person has to be the child of a professional, or marry the child of a professional. This seems to be Americanism or at least a democratic semblance of the reality that was and is to be. The reality of life on planet earth happens really not as communism or socialism but peoples, and political names are a coverup of past injustices and misuse.
The reality of existence lies in the fact that the people who work an hourly wage for a living, and want the most for their children, and their people, derive the least profit from their toil during their lives. The people that work an hourly wage for their existence: keep the water flowing, keep the electricity charging, build the bridges, highways and structures that define our society, and consume the products that the financiers acquiesce and continue the Malthusian economic cycle that requires constant input of natural resources to keep the pump primed and pumping.
In upper class diatribe this means, that the working people, clean up the motel rooms after the professionals cheat away. The working people fuel the airplanes and stock the galleys of fancy aircraft that take them on exotic vacations. The working class stand on girders and dangle from pulleys to build tall skyscrapers that no one wants to work in and are incredibly expensive to tear down. The working class become valets and busboys so the twenty percent can have a gas while they are governing. Most of all, and in the name of God, the working class die in wars for the right of burning foreign petroleum and their daughters are sold as slaves so obscure foreigners can have a good time on Friday night. Can this be reality in a nation under God, indivisible, for liberty and justice for all?
Martin Luther said, “believe in the truth because the truth will set you free.” and he was shot several times with a hunting rifle. So as not to be a political pariah and martyr, let the author state empirically, and with regret, and with knowledge of what might be: politicians and administrators, and investment bankers are superfluous commodities that should be dispensed with in a timely fashion. The working class does not have to accept the medicine that the ruling bodies provide which is worthless and expensive. All professionals are millionaires and soak up a third of the nations budget. Only the dedicated surgeon, a rare and important breed, is necessary because when you are shot or blasted, nothing else anywhere anytime will do in a farthing. Remember, God made the devil so to test mankind so that they might be saved. Surgeons are a necessary evil, and the rest to be dispensed with. Democracy is best because it gives everyone a chance to rise above the masses. No other system does.
It is the working class alone that is important to maintain the infrastructure of the civilization. Almost anything else is unnecessary. The government in all it administrative excellence should coddle and enhance these people which are the lifeblood of to the exclusion of everything else. Fifty percent of the population are decadent and unnecessary. The educated middle class has the onerous duty to maintain the civilization and keep it running while the twenty percent take drugs and have porno parties.
The working people of the United States of America make our civilization beautiful and this essay is for them. They are this nation and no one else. Maybe someone can stand up for right and justice and wear a bulletproof vest and ballistic helmet if the 20 percent feel they are too testy. We the people of the United States are real. United we stand divided we fall.

Wracks, I want you to come in at night at the ER because that is when the action happens.  Be sure to be here Friday or Saturday night on the Graveyard.  Every week we have a gunshot or a bludgeoning event.  We need the extra hands to tie sutures,” said Dr. Saber. “I will be here,” said Wracks

“We have a stat on a fight victim coming in” said the dispatcher.  “Wracks, bring him in and work him up. Then call me.” Said Dr. Saber.  The Paramedics brought the patient into the double doors of the ER.  The ER had double electric doors in case a murderer wanted to finalize an act not perfected.  We could lock them out.  The patient was of average height and average build Caucasian male.  He wore sweats and had no obvious odors diagnostic of metabolic conditions.  Upon neurological exam, The Wracks find the pupils fixed and dilated. The breathing is intermittent but not agonal.  There is no obvious bleeding from the nose, eyes or ear canals upon fundoscopic observation.  The patient is unconscious and does not respond to pain from needle prick or skin pull.  “Dr. Saber, I think we have a subarachnoid hemorrhage with antecedents of trauma to the face. “  Dr. Saber runs to console, grabs the phone and calls upstairs.  “Wait with him!” Dr. Saber commands.

     “Dr. Saber said you have good hands,” said the brain surgeon.  He is a middle size man of obvious English ancestry with short brownish red wavy hair. He stands at middle build on the lean side like people who are always on the run from an adversary. His clothing is impeccable like he arrived from a ball at the palace of Versailles. His shoes look brand new like he never walked in them because he doesn’t have to.  An aquiline gaze reveals steel grey eyes almost like the prince of Wales.  He must be related.   “I want you to assist me in neurosurgery tonight.”  “I will teach you how.”   The patient was already upstairs. He gestures to Wracks and says, “Take the elevator all the way up.  They will let you in.”   The elevator to the top surgical unit is slow and steady and quiet.  The light blink by slowly as it rises to the place where God alone rules and man tries to cheat him of his due.  Someone said to Wracks that the Obelisk was owned by a very rich man.  the Wracks did not believe them because he was forever hungry and looking for food.  Tonight, at eleven o’clock the Wracks will assist a brain surgeon and bring a dead man back to life. This is a third-year externship at Christmas when all his friends are surfing Pipe or the Con and he wasn’t.  He was already scrubbed when the Wracks arrives as if he flew up to the surgical suite.  There was Wracks, the brain surgeon and an older anesthesiologist who looked like he needed sleep too.

“I will teach you brain surgery,” said the brain surgeon.  “First, the conditions.”   “Cool your patient to 90 degrees Fahrenheit with a water blanket.  This will slow the heart and make the neurons less irritable.”  “ Then infuse urea to establish hyper osmotic equilibrium to prevent brain swelling.  This is faster.  Switch to mannitol post operative.  Now infuse solumedrol to prevent inflammation. This takes 24 hours to begin to take effect.  When the patient is readied by the anesthesiologist then we will begin.  Anesthesiology must be light or the patient will stop breathing.  The patient will be conscious.  No matter what the patient says keep going. Learn to focus and block out everything but the job at hand.”

   The patients head was shaved and the brain surgeon looked at the x-rays.  Visualize in your mind where the lesion is from the x-rays.  Take your own x-rays before surgery.   Do not rely on anyone.  Do not let anyone but licensed surgeons into the room.”  “Now we will unearth the calvarium.” Said the brain surgeon. 

     The bone saw whirs at a high frightening screech.  The saw is a small stainless steel orb that glints under the klieg lights and comes from a sterilized package.   “Hold open the operating theatre for me,” he said.  “Do not let go.”  “The patient might move!”  The saw whirred with a horrible whine and the frequency dulled as the blade cut the bone.  Smoke arose from the cut and I started to vomit.  “Dr. Saber said you were good.”   “Are you good?”  “I am good.” Says the Wracks and his senses came back to him.  He pulled of the top of the patient’s skull and snipped the tentorial ligaments with a small scissors.  “This is the durra mater and underneath the subarachnoid membrane. “  Under the durra mater, a skin like membrane stretched over the top of the brain was a mass of congealed blood.  The patient started to speak in a childish voice a language the Wracks could not discern. “Do not listen,” he said.  The brain then started to swell like a loaf of bread rising in an oven.  It pushed out two inches high.   “This is a bad one,” said the brain surgeon.  “We will have to do a total lobectomy.”     “I Want you to hold the suck and turn the fulgerator when I tell you to.”  The Wracks held the suck stable.  The surgeon literally sucked brain matter through a stylet into a huge plastic receptacle.  The osterized brain matter was bright pink like Jell-O.   The neurons are a light grey and the supporting structure of glial cells and myelin is alabaster white.  The brain surgeon hit a capillary and the blood spurt two feet high like a small geyser.  He clipped it with the forceps and said “burn it.” Wracks pressed the trigger of the fulgurator.  The smell of burnt brain permeated the whole operating area.  The wracks started to black out.  “I am going Doctor,” said the Wracks.  The brain surgeon commanded, “Hold the suck.”   “I am going Dr,” the Wracks.   The brain surgeon commanded “Hold the suck.”   The Wracks slowly started to come back. Slowly, surely, he came back to consciousness.  “Now we can continue.” He said.  Small hemorrhages would occur as he aspirated brain tissue.  The Wracks held the suck and triggered the burner as he commanded.  “Our father who art in heaven.”  And we continued.  “Hallowed be thy name.”  And we continued.  “Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done.”   “There” said the brain surgeon.   “The bleeding and swelling have stopped and the patient still breathes.”  He put the top of the skull back on the patient and secured it with staples.  Then he sutured the scalp back into place.   The clock says two A.M and I am spent.  “You can go now.” Said the brain surgeon.  “I am done here.”

      The elevator from the top slowly descended to moral reality and the Wracks walked back into the ER.   “Did he make it?” said Dr. Saber “He made it.” Says the Wracks.  “Good “said Dr. Saber.  “We have a gunshot wound to the abdomen in room 3 and I want you to wait there until the police arrive.”   “o.K.,” says the wracks.

      They said the patient was alive on a respirator until he was transferred to another hospital.  The Wracks lost track of him.  Some say he died some say he slipped away.  Some say the event never happened.   The Wracks never saw the brain surgeon again. He is a very busy man who lives on an airplane and flies all around the world cutting into people’s brain., They say he is the best in the world.   Instead, the Wracks does neuro- surgery with an African American who hates to do colostomies.   There was always action in the south, in the city, downtown, late at night during the summer externships at the hospital when the Wracks was a medical student.

“Where were you,” said Dr. Saber.   We need suturing for a head wound in room two.  the wracks went back to work for nothing to learn the craft in the days before the darkness in youth when achieving was so important and nothing else mattered.  They still do not know how to prevent the brain from swelling during trauma.  It is the increased intracranial pressure that stops the respiratory center from working., Pray to Yahweh and beg him to whisper the secret to a sincere dedicated surgeon.  Mankind is depending on you.   La Ilya alha Allah, Muhamed resund Allah.  

At eleven o’clock A.M. He is preparing to go to the cafeteria to eat.  The charge nurse for the surgical unit runs directly at W  and says “There is a large aneurysm to be resected in the main surgical theatre. Dr. P and Dr. Are want you there now.” Tell them to find someone else to assist them,” says W.   “They want you now,” says the charge nurse. “Go and scrub in, Now!”  “I have to check a bandage and then eat,” W says.   The Charge nurse points at the door and says “NOW!”    W then then slouches to the hallway ramparts, turns right and key in the code at the surgical unit door and enter.  “Grab a cup of coffee and some donuts,” says Dr. Are.  “We may be in there all afternoon.”   Get a new green and then scrub in.  “Where did you learn to wash your hands like that,” says Dr. are.  “In Mexico,” W says “And I got a “C” in surgery operating on dogs.”  “You will do,” he adds.

      The patient is a huge obese lady who is out cold under anesthesia.  The staff ropes her to the table.  Dr. P is there with a knife.  “Watch me rip her open,” he says.    He takes the stainless steel knife that glints from autoclave clean, starts at the belly and jerks it up to her rib cage.  Blood spurts everywhere.  “I will clamp the bleeders, you tie them off,” says Dr. Are.   We learned to tie knots fast at the Guad.   He clamps, W ties, he takes off the clamps and W ties the next. “We will be in next,” says Dr. P.  He takes all the used hemostat clamps and throws them in the corner eight feet away.”   “We have to count them all before we close,” says Dr. Are.   Dr. Are. takes a scalpel and cuts the peritoneal membrane and the viscera bulge out of the wound.  They are a beautiful pink on white.  He then sticks his hands into her abdomen and pulls out all of her guts and sets them on her chest on top of a cotton gauze towel.   He puts another towel on top of her bowels and says to me. “You have to hold them on her chest.  If you let them go, she dies.”  W holds.  He starts sweating and W holds and look inside her body cavity.  Dr. P is clamping off her aorta top and bottoms one large underneath her kidney and two other on the other two femoral arteries.  The aneurysm loots like a huge asymmetrical sac, reddish purple from coagulated blood about eight centimeters in diameter.   “It is ready to burst,” says Dr. P and he goes and gets the polyester pants that will replace the artery.  He holds them up and plays with them like a little rag doll.  Dr. Are says, “Is everyone ready?”  By now the whole surgical staff and medical student were watching from afar.  Some of them began to faint and were pulled outside by their friends.  The big fat woman who was dead because her heart had to stop to resect the aneurysm rolled on the table like a huge beached whale.  Dr. P said “Now.”  Dr. Are maneuvered to the other side of the table next to me.  Dr. P took a scalpel and in one motion delivered the aorta with aneurysm to a waiting steel bedpan held by Dr. W.  A charge nurse stepped in and took the bedpan.  W holds her guts on top of her chest.  Dr. P put the polyester pants in place and started to sew.  Dr. Are. took the top end and started to sew.  When they were done the polyester pants were in place with three clamps remaining.  “Second guess me Dr. Are.” said Dr. P.  “It looks good,” says Dr. Are.  “Let’s let her rip”.  Dr. P was the chief surgical resident in his fifth year.  He won the by over Dr. Are by subjective advantage.  They were both equally good.  Dr. P slowly, slowly. Slowly took the clamps off the aorta and threw them as far away from the table as he could.  W holds her viscera on her chest.   “Start her heart,” Dr. Are said to the anesthesiologist.  He injects epinephrine in her subclavian port and shocked her.  He shocked her again and the monitor came alive.  Sine wave and red blinking dot online. She is alive.  The graft inflated like a balloon and it held.  “Lets wait,” said Dr. W.  “I want to see.” The graft held and pulsed slowly. “Let go of her guts,” said Dr. Are.  W’s muscles were frozen into tetanic spasm and as she came back into consciousness, W let them go and stepped away from the table.  Dr. P stuffed the intestines back into her body cavity and closed the peritoneum with polylysine blue strand. Dr. are tied and cut the knots.  Dr. P said “thank you everyone.” And left.  Dr. W. said “Here is the stapler, “you staple her up.”  “I have to do an amputation.” So, W staples with a large stainless-steel stapler.  A second-year resident hold the skin together for W. as W staples.  W asked, “Why staples?”  The resident said, “In case we need to rip her open again, we can pop them quickly.”  W staples.  The anesthesiologist and the internist wheel her into recovery. They said, “You can go eat dinner now.”   We had to eat dinner because tonight was a call night every third day.  W will have to be up late.  Cigarettes lose their taste.  Coffee gives everyone who drinks a lot of it an ulcer.  What keeps someone going is sheer will, perseverance and faith.  After dinner W will sleep an hour and then walk rounds through the hospital till they tell W they do not need him until tomorrow.  By then it will be tomorrow anyway and the cycle begins anew and W wonders if he is really cut out to be a surgeon.  W needs too much sleep.  Every man must know his limitations and without knowing these a man is vulnerable to life and in life is birth, death and a new beginning.  W goes to the locker and scrub out.  Someone has stolen the earpieces from his stethoscope. W wraps tape around the pipe. Stick them in his pocket and walk towards the cafeteria.  The moon is full outside.  Spring is in the air.  The snow has melted and the air is delicious, but he is inside doing what needs to be done because it has to be done and he really wonder why.  He thinks about how he is going to sabotage the pager because they always bust him at dinner to do a blood gas.  They say he have good hands.  he would rather have a good heart.  The African American cook looks at me with a smile in the cafeteria. “The same,” he says  Chicken fricassee with broccoli and a scoop of mashed potatoes.  W does not know why she smiles at him. At this point W does not care.  He is on call tonight in the ICU.

“Well Dr. Wrak, you have completed twenty weeks of surgery and Dr. Ony has passed you,” says Dr. Q.  Dr. Q is the chief of internal medicine at Amityville hospital and oversees the fifth pathway program offered by New Amsterdam College.   Dr. Q stands slightly taller than average, has a slight build, olive colored skin, thin hair, but bright eyes.  His teeth show that braces were too expensive for his family in his youth and now as a rich medical doctor, he still has not corrected the poor bite which stands out when he smiles.  “I think that it is time for a vacation for you.  What elective rotation would you like for six weeks?” inquires Dr. Q.   “I would like radiology because there is no call in Radiology,” says Dr. Wrak.  “Don’t you like call,” explores Dr. Q.  “Not when it is every third day and I have to do surgery in the middle of the night,” says Dr. Wrak. “You will like the Radiology vacation,” says Dr. Q. “Dr. Pine will be instructing you.” “He is an extremely busy man.  Do not speak as you sit in the reading room and Dr. Pine will instruct you.”  “Not a word!”  insists Dr. Q.  “Not a word!”  “I promise,” says Dr. Wrak, “When do I begin?” “As soon as you leave this room.” Says Dr. Q.  “Dr. Pine is a pioneer in balloon angioplasty and will let you assist him if he likes you.”  “They read at ten AM and Four PM.” “Be there.’  “Thank you Dr. Q.” says Dr. Wrak.  As Dr. Wrak walks out of the room he hears again in the hall “Not a word Dr. Wrak.”   “Yes sir,” says Dr. Wrak as he enters the stairway and walks down from the second story at Amityville hospital into the stairwell.  Radiology lives on the first floor next to admissions.   The sign says, “Radiology, Patients enter here.”  Down the hall a smaller sign says, “Doctors only.”  Wrak chooses to enter there.  The cryptographer at the desk next to the door says, “Dr. Wrak you are late.  They are reading now.  Enter the room and take a chair in the back if one is available.  If not stand in back until they finish reading.”  “Thank you,” says Dr. Wrak.  The reading room lies to the right behind a sturdy oak door.  Inside the lights shroud a huge wall of white fluorescent reading screens with cloth pins at the top of each screen to hold the transparent X-ray films.  Comfortable padded chairs sit behind the screen plush with padding. Dr. Pine sits with three residents looking at films.  The room is dark and a red light provides enough illumination to enable a person to walk safely.  Dr. Wrak decides to stand in back.  “Good morning Dr. Wrak,” says Dr. Pine and he resumes reading films.   “This one is an intusception. Notice the fluid level above the obstruction. Phone third floor now.”   He flicks the film off the wall and places it back into a manila envelope.  A resident grabs the envelope, stands up and leaves without speaking a word.  Dr. Wrak takes his seat.  “This film is reactivation tuberculosis.  Notice the cavitation in the right lung apex on an anterior posterior.”  He puts the film back in an envelope, hands it to a resident and the resident leaves like the first one.  “Dr. Wrak, remember tuberculosis prefers the right lung because the main stem bronchus juts at a right angle.  The left stem bronchus exits at forty five degrees.  Above all be systematic in your analysis.” Says Dr. Pine.  Dr. Wrak nods his head once.   Dr. pine shoots through ten more films, looking at a film, writing an interpretation, and throwing the film back into a manila envelope.  He does this quickly and the clothes pins holding the transparencies on the wall make a snapping noise with the speed and ferocity of the actions.  “I am done.” Exclaims Dr. Pine.  “Do you want to assist in a procedure, he inquires.”  Dr. Wrak nods his head once.  “Get a radiology badge from the front office and meet me in surgery in thirty minutes.” Says Dr. Pine.  Dr. Wrak nods his head once.   The cryptographer in the front office opens a large manila folder as Dr. Wrak enters the office.  Inside the folder are bunch of radiology badges like prizes in a cracker jack box.   She wears her hair short, has glasses and a professional looking blouse buttoned up.  “Here is your badge. Do not lose it.”  She writes the number of the badge on a ledger and asks Dr. Wrak to sign it.”  “Thank you very much,” says Dr. Wrak.  “Take the badge home with you too,” She insists.

     “This patient has a stenosis in the left femoral artery at the level of the inferior olecranon process proximal to the popliteal space.” Says Dr. Pine.  “You are going to hold her leg still as I advance the cannula from her femoral triangle down to the obstruction.”  We will take films periodically as the balloon stylus descends.  The films will reveal progress.  Hold her leg still with both hands because if I pierce the arterial intima, an aneurysm will develop and the procedure will fail.  Dr. Wrak holds the patients leg and Dr. Pine inserts the cannula in the arterial stent created by a general surgeon moments before.  The X-ray gun hums.  A picture appears on the screen.  “Pixels,” says Dr. Pine.  “It is the new technology.”  He advances the cannula further.  The x-ray machine hums.  He advances the cannula as Dr. Wrak holds the patients leg.  The x-ray machine hums with a buzz and another picture appears on the screen above the table.  “We are almost there,” says Dr. Pine.  “When we get to the obstruction, hold the leg extremely still and I will inflate the balloon. At this point we will take films at the rate of one per five seconds to monitor the progress of the balloon inflating.”  The x-ray machine buzzes and a picture appears on the screen.  Dr. Pine squeezes a bulb furiously.  The x-ray machine buzzes and another picture appears on the screen.  The closed artery is being expanded.  The x-ray machine buzzes three more times and then Dr. Pine exclaims, “the dilation is successful.”  He deflates the balloon and slowly withdraws the catheter from the artery like an angler pulling in a fish.  The catheter appears to be three or more feet long. “Bring the patient back to recovery.” Says Dr. Pine The anesthesiologist leaves with the patient, dragging her IV pole beside him.  “Thank you Dr. Wrak.”  Says Dr. Pine. “See you at four.”  Dr. Wrak nods his head once.  As Dr. Pine walks out the surgical suite door he says casually as he exits, “The procedure only lasts for six months then the artery re-occludes.  I do them anyway.” “I am told what to do by the administration upstairs and if I don’t, they find someone who will.”

   “Dr. zel wants you to assist him in a lower GI barium swallow,” says the cryptographer. “Enter the room down the hall. You do not have to scrub.  The procedure will take about an hour.  You will rejoin the radiologists at four PM after lunch.  “What a morning,” thinks Dr. Wrak.  “Another surgical procedure.  I thought Radiology would be my vacation!”   Dr. Zel stands at medium height with large owl like spectacles and wavy dark brown hair.  He wears a pressed shirt and tie underneath the hospital smock.  “Take off your hospital smock and put on this lead suit says Dr. Zel.  Dr. Wrak complies. He puts his smock on the desk outside the radiology suite.  Dr. Wrak looks like the alien invader from Earth versus flying saucers. Dr. Wrak feels ill at ease.  The patient wheels in and the radiology orderly runs out.  Dr. Wrak helps Dr. Zel position the patient on a movable table and fastens the patient down.  “When I invert the patient hold them so they do not fall off the table. Assist the patient whenever possible, “teaches Dr. Zel.  Dr. Wrak helps Dr. Zel by moving the table into various positions as Dr. Zel takes pictures with an x-ray gun. About a half hour into the procedure something strange happens.  On the wall behind the screen a metal plate falls off the collimator at the top of the device, and a blue glowing flame appears in a steel box like a reactor core melting down.  The flame is intensely blue and Dr. Wrak cannot bear to look at it.  The room starts to smell like a lightning flash during a thunderstorm.  Dr. Wrak moves behind the lead glass screen and gesticulates to Dr. Zel about the huge blue flame in the metal box on the wall.  Dr. Zel smiles and says, “I have to finish the procedure,”  “You can go.” Dr. Wrak pounds on the glass and jumps up and down.  “It’s Ok” says Dr. Zel “the procedure is nearly over, you can go.”  Dr. Wrak nods his head in prayer and implores Dr. Zel to leave.  “It’s OK,” says Dr. Zel.  Dr. Wrak exits the room from behind the leaded glass and throws off the radiation suit.  He grabs his smock and proceeds to the cafeteria.  “Finally time to sit around and eat,” thinks Dr. Wrak.  “Where are you,” inquires a resident. “I am in Radiology now,” says Dr. Wrak.  “If you want to help in surgery, just stop by says a fourth year surgical resident. “I most certainly will,” says Dr. Wrak with a wan smile and he begins to eat the chicken fricassee with broccoli, mashed potatoes and gravy, chocolate milk and a cup of coffee with free refills to residents only.  This is the standard fare he can afford.

   “Good morning Ms. Kleb,” says Dr. Wrak.  “Dr. Wrak, you radiation badge is red and you must see the head of Radiology immediately.”  Dr. Wrak examines the radiation badge clipped to his left breast pocket and by Jove, the badge turned from ivory white to a bloody crimson red.  The chief of radiology is an older man with white hair and looks like either the God Thor or Loki the evil elf.  Dr. Wrak hands him his badge.  “Where have you been?” inquires the chief.  “Just a few procedures,” says Dr. Wrak.  ” I left my badge outside a procedure yesterday because I was wearing a lead radiation suit head to toe.  Somehow the badge got exposed to radiation.  The Chief says, “When a badge turns red , the event signifies a lethal dose of radiation.  You do not look sick.  If I report this badge, you cannot continue your residency until you complete medical treatment. I am going to throw it away and issue you a new badge as if this event did not ever happen.  I will alter the books.  Here is your new badge.  You can go back to the wards. If you feel sick in any way, come back and see me.”  “I will,” says Dr. Wrak.  “Good luck,” says the chief. 

     This is how radiology is. Even amongst educated elite, the world is a tooth and nail fight for wealth and supremacy.  All rivals and competitors face instant elimination on a daily basis and interact with  the forces of evil constantly.  Dr. Wrak hopes he was not exposed to high energy ionizing radiation.  Lots of radiation destroys the immune system.  Today is a new day and more films are to be read and more procedures done with x-ray guns pointed nearby.  Dr. Wrak finished the book on Clinical Radiology in one night and now knows what to expect and what to do in the hospital.  The future of Medicine lies in imagery because viewing things in situ, de facto, in surgery portends morbidity, mortality and worse for the patient and the staff.  Dr. Wrak runs with the new technology of Radiology and feels proud to be part of the new wave.  With the new wave comes great danger and in danger heroes are made. Some things must be done and not talked about.  Reading x-ray films expertly requires high intelligence, a background of medicine and the ability to visualize anatomic detail in the  mind as a doctor  correlates the information with the imagery presented on the film. Hope springs eternal even for the damned.

     “Dr. Wrak, are you finished with Radiology yet,” inquires Dr. Q from across the hall.  “We need you back on the ward.”  “I am still on vacation Dr. Q,  Still on vacation. Nice to see you. Two weeks to go.” 

Medicine is a fun and helping profession and W is glad to be part of it.