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When the flatline sounded, Aris didn’t cry. He simply walked to the locker room, sat on the bench, and stared at his hands. Those hands had reattached fingers, stopped aneurysms, and held a dying child. Now, they were just the hands that couldn’t find a piece of plastic.

He ended the video by holding up a needle driver and a piece of suture. He took a single stitch into a piece of leather. "I'm starting over," he said. "One stitch at a time."

His wife, Lena, noticed the weight loss and the thousand-yard stare. "Talk to me," she begged.