Scrub

I enjoyed work yesterday more than I have for a long, long time. Because most of the day, I got to scrub in, because I felt that wonderful flow of doing the work well. Because I loved the cases I got to see. It's that horrible flipside, the worse the problem, the more interesting for those of us working on it. And, you WANT that. Later, I will feel bad for the sufferer. But in that moment, that worst case is a knotty problem to be solved. I'm fascinated, not repelled or nauseated, all my attention is in that moment. Very zen, that.

And I got to smart off to a surgeon. R was scrubbed on a spine case with Dr.P. He complained about her stray hairs, so she walked over to me, so I could tuck. A normal part of a circulator's job, goes along with adjusting glasses, headlights, masks, for those whose hands are in sterile gloves. Nose scratching is usually done by the sterile itchee, hands free, on the edge of a door or shelf, or with a sterile intrument, then passed off the field.

So, I am tucking R's hair back in, and, it being very blonde, as soon as she turns, I see a bit more that has escaped. Dr. P askes for a curette. I order him, "Get it yourself, I'm tucking her hair." R looks at me with wide eyes, expecting the unpredictable Dr. P to react.

What he says is, "Never get between two women fussing with their hair."

"That's right." I confirm, and let her return to scrubbing. R giggles. Levity maintained.

I also got to be a comfort this week. A man not much younger than myself with an embarrassing emergency. The charge nurse felt she had to talk me into doing the case, since here I am 'ortho', not urology. "It's kinda like a bone." But I have spent my time as a penis princess, and didn't mind at all. I do know my work. It felt good to feel so competent, and then, to have the right words, the right touch. On his shoulder. Jeeze people.

"At least this happened because you were doing something normal. Not like you stuck a bottle up your bum, or a ball bearing into your bladder."

"Oh. No. Nothing like that." And although he was still embarrassed, he laughed, and trusted us to treat him with respect. We did giggle, later, but that is just one of the rare perks of the job. The stories and the jokes, far removed from the individual involved. We have to laugh, hoping we never do anything to deserve it ourselves.

It's the stories that make the agony all worthwhile.