Home sweet home

Finally, there is the smell of formaldehyde
and the sight of microscopes.
Divine designs beaneath their rim
microbes flickering around,
stained with blue dyes.

The sight of Self, underneath the cell.
It is a relief to be back home.

Home sweet home,
where the Medicine lives and heals.

The progression stages of cancers and difficult diseases.
the intricate delicacy of genes , peering on the edge.
One or or the other, they can save lives or stain them.

The subtleties of medicine are breathtaking. higher than any mountain, the sight of Sinai or the face of life.

Walking in those hallways, tinged with the auras of wise men and the fumes of labs,
churning away the sickness into life.
Brilliant minds walk around drinking coffee,
and we talk about cells and not soccer.

The cells. Oh the cells.
The sweet smell of cells, stained with dyes blue like the sky.

As Meredith Grey ('s Anatomy) says:
"There comes a time,
when it's more than just a game".
Welcome home.

----
Part deux

I gobbled that Oncology book, like a thirsty man drinks water.
Missed two buses and couldnt get myself to leave..
like a lover being forced apart.
I can't wait to swim in it's reams..

Multiple myelomas and the stems cells that create them.
We can tailor them, change them, suit them, train them to save lives.
Make vaccines out of them or give them to children to live.

We can plunge needles into them and suck out the the marrow of life.
And to find that "when we came to die, we had lived".
(Walt Whitman, Dead Poet's Society)