Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures by Vincent Lam Read Free Book Online

fingering the bag that contained the left half of the head.
    â€œI’m sure. I covered it. I sprayed it. It was right here.”
    â€œYou’re always in such a rush,” said Sri. “Maybe if you slowed down…. You know how long I spent dissecting those cranial nerves?”
    â€œI bet someone took it,” said Ming.
    Sri replied, “Right. Make up a story. You were looking at it, so it was your responsibility to put it back. With the rest of Murphy.”
    â€œWho made you boss? And he’s not a Murphy,” said Ming. “Probably someone borrowed it—it’ll turn up.”
    â€œYou lost the head,” Sri whispered, leaning forward and looking at Ming, “and I named him Murphy.”
    â€œIt’s only half. And I did not lose it. I left it right here. It’s not where I left it. That’s not ‘losing’ it.”
    â€œObviously you don’t care,” said Sri.
    â€œJust study it from the manual.”
    â€œI made the cranial nerve page into a swan,” said Chen. He rested his latex-gloved hands on the table.
    Ming said, “Should have chosen a different page.”
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    At two in the morning, only Sri and Chen were in the lab, sitting over the borrowed right half of a head. All the other tables were covered in sheets, and sprayed with the fresh pungency of formalin.
    â€œYou know she won’t apologize, but you probably should,” said Chen.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause we’ve still got the pelvis and legs to do. It’ll be better if you make peace.”
    â€œThis is very bad.”
    â€œSure, you guys are upset, so just smooth it out.”
    â€œIt’s not just her. Losing half his head is bad. And why did she insist we cut through Murphy’s cross and heart?”
    â€œShe follows the book, Sri. She reads it, she does it.”
    â€œMy mother told me you should respect a man’s symbols. We should have cut around the cross. Did you look up that Mark thing?”
    â€œSorry, I forgot. What was it again?”
    â€œMark 16.”
    â€œI’ll check it for you. Did your mother say anything about losing half a head?”
    â€œNever came up.”
    They looked down at the open half-head they had only been able to study after midnight when another group had finished with it. Ming had decided to study from the anatomy atlas. “Ready for tomorrow?”
    â€œReady as ever, I guess,” said Sri.
    â€œI guess we’re done here. Hungry?”
    â€œKind of. I need something filling to help me sleep.”
    â€œLet’s go.”
    In the night, walking under blowing elms, they smelled themselves more clearly, their skin sticky in the armpits and elbows. In the creases of their hands. In the washroom of Nona’s, while the round lady heated their calzones, Chen washed his face with his hands, and the more he washed the more that odour seeped from between his fingers and under his nails. Under the low-wattage light, he used the tepid water and hard soap to wash his hands raw.
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    After the midterm, Sri went to Dean Cortina and asked to switch to a different group. He said, “One of my partners is great but I have a communication problem with my other colleague.”
    â€œThe course is almost over, and we can’t change the groups. I’m glad you said colleague because that means you think like a professional. Take this as your firstprofessional challenge,” said Dean Cortina. “I remember my anatomy group, and I don’t want to tell you how many years ago.” She sat back in her big chair. “We had a communication problem. Men are odd about penises. They don’t want to talk about them but they secretly believe them to be very important, perhaps sacred. So we got to the penis on our cadaver, and the men wanted to skip it. ‘We’ll look at the book,’ they said. ‘No way,’ I said, ‘we need to see the inside of the