I dreamed I was still in the OR, but the patient was me

I was standing at the foot of the table, watching my own body under the lights — calm, still, no pulse. The anesthesiologist said, 'We’re ready,' and I knew I had to choose: stay or go. I reached for the scalpel, not to cut, but to hold it like a compass. When I woke up, my hand was clenched around nothing. I’ve been thinking about how many times I’ve held that weight — not just in surgery, but in every decision where I had to let someone else be the one who stayed.