So here's my joke. My husband Bill had a nurse named Angel, and an angel named Nurse. (Those who know my husband is a nurse will laugh -- I hope.) I get a call from Angel, and since I had met the surgical nurse, I assumed it was he, and not some other entity, calling to tell me that surgery was over and my husband did well.
The operating room, and indeed the hospital, looks like a model of interdependent community: two anesthesiologists (one short, one tall); someone monitoring neurological signs; surgeon; angel nurse; and assorted technicians. I met a number of them, and Bill saw a number more, maybe even some he missed because he was asleep. It's a complex system, and I found myself thinking of Thich Nhat Hanh's idea of interbeing (the image is by artist Alex Grey). Somebody made these monitors hanging on Bill's IV pole (There are three boxes). Someone gave these platelets (they look like peach juice) that are dripping, drip by drop, to become Bill. Platelets aren't artificial; someone has to donate them. Thank you, whoever did.