faculty sabbatical program
in Vietnam, as so many people wear his shirts here. You might also be interested to know that Tony is a born-again Christian. I know this because on the back
thought that this would be difficult to witness, but it’s not. Oh, It’s REAL — no doubt about it — on many levels, it’s real.
There is no CGI or special effects here. But there is a beauty in the “colors’’ of it … all is real. The color of the knowledge I’ve gained. The ever-brightening color of my daughter’s growth on this trip. The color of the work
of the scooter-riding young man’s shirt is silk-screened, ‘Y’All need Jesus.’ But I digress as all the sights, sounds, and smells vie for my attention,
“I’ll come home and tell my wife some of E-Z’s jokes, but they won’t land in my living room as well as they land in the hallway outside the O.R.”
dragging my adult ADHD thought process in a million directions at once … oh yeah … the colors.
of the doctors and the coordination of the team. The color of hope. Beauty. Beauty that can not be described with mere visual colors. No longer is “color” a noun or an adjective. Witnessing operating room, “color” becomes a verb. There is a beauty here that is not just color; it is a beauty that colors … has colored my whole perspective. It has added brilliant new hues to my psychic palette. The glow of the camaraderie of the people I’ve shared
Then there’s the other colors … in O.R. The green scrubs and gown of the surgeons. The blue scrubs of the International Extremity Project (IEP) team. Although it might be impertinent to mention the colors of the surgeries, the bright reds and whites beneath the skin … exposed to light for the first time … the harsh operating room light illuminating an incision. I
28 | cathedral school for boys
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