silvertons:

I’m proud of him, okay? You’re proud of a man that fired into a group of people? I mean, not him exactly. The work I did. The surgery you performed? The night he was shot, I dug two .38s out of his arm, another two out of his thigh. The fifth was in his chest, and his lungs were filling with blood. I got a tube in, but the place was a circus, so I almost missed the muffled heart tones, the distended vein in his neck. His pericardium was filling with blood, too. I mean, it happens to maybe 2% of patients, but even a hole the size of a pin prick can flood it. I remember inserting the needle into his chest. You go too deep, you risk puncturing the heart itself. But then I heard this pop when I got to the membrane, and then I started to draw the blood away. A few minutes later he was stable enough for surgery. I found the .38 lodged inside the wall of his bronchus. And that was that. I stitched him up, and ten days later he was transferred to a prison ward for recovery. Usually when I think back to those days, I don’t feel great. But seeing Shinwell yesterday, it made me feel good.

silvertons:

I went to school for 11 years to become a surgeon. I wanted to fix people, take their pain away. And I was good at it. And then I killed someone. So, becoming a sober companion, I could still be involved, you know? But now, you and me – we’re in the punishment business.

silvertons:

This is your third career. You stopped being a surgeon for personal reasons. You stopped being a sober companion because something better came along. It just seemed a prudent time to ask whether your wanderlust had subsided.