Death? You mean when your heart stops beating? Bah, that doesn’t matter. Listen, I’ve been without a body for a month now, and that doesn’t prevent me from living on. At first, when I heard the surgeon yell, “Oops, I was thinking of Debra and my hand slipped. Has anyone seen the liver? Watch out, don’t step on it!”, I didn’t think I’d make it. Then everyone in the operating room began to walk on all fours in search of my liver. I took that as a bad sign… When they found my liver it was too late: my heart had stopped beating. “I’ve already lost three patients this morning!” the surgeon was yelling, out of his mind. “They aren’t going to renew my license!”. Then a nurse covered my body with a sheet, and I realized that I could not count any more on it. I was in shock. It’s understandable, because up to this instant everywhere I went, my body was with me. Suddenly I had become independent and, well, a vertigo seized me. “What am I going to do now without a body?” I thought “On Monday 22 I have another surgery. How are they going to operate on me if I don’t have a body? I got to get a body!” Fear clouded my reasoning for a time, but then the thought began to dawn on me that it didn’t hurt any more. I was healed! I wouldn’t need another surgery! In fact, I had never felt so strong and fit. So the surgery had been a success after all! That taught me that people tend to overestimate the importance of the body and vital functions.

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