The 4x4 Language We Speak
A few years ago, my wife’s employer, a neurosurgeon, invited us to his home for a Christmas dinner party. Also invited were a number of leading Illinois neurosurgeons. During the appetizer, the conversation was light, hovering around the nasty Illinois winter and the agony of Christmas shopping. During the entrée is where things really got interesting. The doctors launched into a verbal analysis of neurosurgery stuff like a temporal craniotomy, evacuation of epidural hematoma, debridement of lacerated brain, and laceration of the anterior branch of the middle meningeal artery. Everyone in the room knew exactly what all of this meant, except me. About three quarters of the way through the analysis, my eyes had glazed over and my right eye was twitching uncontrollably. I was desperately wishing I had a medical…
