I know this sounds more like a navel gazing exercise than a secret of the operating room. I bet if you polled the long-timers in the OR, those who have been in the role for years, every single why would be different. And every single why probably has something to do with the patient.
Because when it works and all cylinders are rocking and rolling, and every potential catastrophe is dealt with it is beautiful.
Here is mine.
‘This.
This is why we do what we do. This is why we work the impossible hours, away from our own loved ones. This is why we cheerfully (mostly) smile at our patients and our doctors and do our very best for them.
Because sometimes, it is a awe inspiring ballet of anesthesia, nursing, scrub techs and surgeons all knowing our job and how to help others do their jobs. Ordering labs during the case on the in room computer, putting in lines, getting patients from the ICU ourselves when it is necessary getting blood products, keeping one step ahead of the sterile team.
This saving of a life can be a thing of outstanding grace and beauty.
Because you go home at the end of the day, exhausted, exhilarated. And that patient is alive because of you and the incredible tango you have all just performed, just for them, to the beat of their heart monitors and their breaths.’
*
According to my notes, I wrote this on December 16th, 2013. Do I remember the particulars of that case or that patient? No, but I would bet cash money that the patient hemorrhaged. When a patient hemorrhages, it is all hands on deck. Heck, if you can beg, borrow, or steal other hands do so. The hands don’t even have to be OR hands; I’ve pulled in PACU people before.
The saving of a life can be a thing of outstanding grace and beauty.
Still is, more than 10 years later. Which is why I will never leave the OR. As long as I am capable, I am there.
Dispatches from the Evening Shift 