Iggy's hands shook as doubt and fear clouded his mind. It was Thursday and he hadn't taught once this week. Too many accidents, too much snow. He looked down at his table. A few interns watched from the observation chamber and he could sense them shuffling in anxiety as he hesitated, almost hear their voices.
He put down the scalpel and picked it up again, hiding the deep breath he took. He drew his focus to a scalpel sharp point and began his work, his hands steady once more. Everything had ran through his head in ten seconds, each feeling like an hour. Cut away dead tissues, piece together what he could, suture living tissues together. Like a darner of the flesh.
It was an art and Iggy was good at it. He was efficient, he was fast, he was clever and skilled, and still with the interns looking on above, he was brutally and painfully alone. Just him and this woman on the edge of death in this operating theater.
He was confident now, and even while monitoring vitals out of the co