Honor

My favorite scrub, the one I most trusted and enjoyed working with when I left, was also a man I disliked on first meeting, and for years after. I found him intrusive and abrasive, too sure of himself when he was wrong. We had no interests in common, polar opposites. He pushed at me because I'd been in the military as well, had tattoos, our only points of similarity. Not a good move, to insist at me. I retreated with all walls up. It didn't matter much, since we rarely worked together then, I had my own areas, he scrubbed ortho mostly.

When I returned, I went to ortho, he worked as a private scrub for three of the ortho and total joint surgeons. I had to learn the specialty for this hospital. He taught me, but the distrust and dislike were still there, and we had a few hostile interactions. Gradually, we learned to trust each other. He knew this stuff cold, and his confidence matched his abilities in this area. I earned his trust, learning fast and taking care of him.

One day, he was working in a lot of shoulder pain, I went the extra miles to make life as easy for him as I could. Not because it was him, but because he needed help. I filled the gap, which I consider my responsibility, my personal feelings being irrelevant. He recognized the kindness, the work done, and started giving me some benefit of doubt. We began the dance that day, trusting each other. I caught his non-verbal cues, and acted appropriately to them. A gesture, and I got him the needed supply, or took the reminder to fill the saline pitcher. He joked, and I joked back, we both began to laugh.

One day, I had not been assigned in his room, until I relieved another nurse at three. Nearly smothered in the effusion of gratitude, I heard about all the disappointments and frustrations of the day with other nurse. Surgeon, PA, Anesthesiologist and Scrub all complained about her inattention, contrariness, ineptitude. And welcomed me as Salvation.

One day, recovering from a cold, he disappeared for a smoke break (no, I didn't give him shit about it, I just look at him, and he knows, oh, he knows.) I got all his supplies opened for him. He walked in, and the look on his face was worth it. Yeah, it's good to work with people who are on your side.

After I told him I'd put in my notice, he made no effort to hide his distress. Nor did I. In all those earlier years, I could never have imagined I would so grieve him, nor that we would give each other such a warm and caring hug. I still feel that pressure build up behind my eyes, knowing we will not be working together again any time soon.

We never just chatted, would have little to talk about together. Only on the last day did I learn he had been married four times. We knew each other only on the surface, and at the depths of our ethics, the midranges held no common threads. But we could dance the OR tango, fast and fluid, wordlessly. He's the best, and he thought the same of me. Quite an honor.