BluE Scrubs

Yesterday was a busy on call. The board was filling up fast with cases from all specialties. Two of them were laparotomies. Laparotomy is almost always is a big operation which, to a nearly 2 year old anaesthetist like me, alone, putting the whole show together with arterial line, CVP lines, thoracic epidural and all is still a big deal. Too many lines, too many numbers, too many points to scan during ‘cock pit’ drill.

A woman was rushed to theatre at 9:30 after stabbing herself in the neck. She missed the carotid and the tip of the kitchen knife ended just before the cord. I don’t know whether that is good for her or not, don't know to call that a good luck for her or not, but what we did was what we think was right in this society we live in. So she survived, probably now ruminating on the next move on how to successfully kill herself, yet again. Ok let’s be gentle, probably fighting ‘the voice’ which commanded her to take her own life.

I lugged myself into the coffee room later and checked on the board again. Sometimes, gynae cases get taken away from the emergency board to be done at the end of the normal elective lists. So I had just that in mind. Or anything really to reduce the number of cases. Patients vacuumed into an alien space ship through a scanning tentacle for whole body organectomy has once crossed my mind, never once yet happened.

My eyes stopped at that particular name with laparotomy against it. I was told earlier that I shouldn’t bother with that one because one of the consultants will be anaesthetising. Being busy with that suicidal woman, I was only just too happy. But that name…

I rushed out to see all the other patients on the wards. I had one nagging question to ask somebody in the know, to confirm my suspicion. A familiar face stopped me on the corridor, and he said I looked familiar before I could say anything. I looked at his badge and the harder I tried, the more I felt the decaying familiarity. Which was strange.

I just couldn’t figure out where I ‘d seen him before, and similarly the reply from him, so there we were standing, while shooting blind questions in hope that we both hit the same spot. No joy. He’s going to come over to ICU later on to see a patient. So I said jolly good will see him there. Maybe the penny will drop by then. Cecil Ebon…Cecil Ebon..Cecil Ebon…where and when..watch this space. What an annoying thing when that happens. Portsmouth maybe when I really had trouble matching my tops with my skirts or trousers to work. That always attracted attention. Once my SHO asked if my mum still dress me to work. He stopped teasing after my threat to tell the boss he smoked.

I whizzed around the ward to see if I can find 'the name'. The name, very familiar, the face very fresh in my mind, the feeling, let’s hope it’s not him. What’s missing from the name was the two letter DR. word at the front .

I pushed away any thoughts that it might be him but my reasoning started fussing about how this Dr. been off sick for a while, and how I haven’t had much grilling from him recently.

I zoomed back to theatre and paced up to theatre 7. Saw Pete, and he looked away. Very strange I thought. I approached him and I said ‘I know Pete, please tell me how he’s doing’. Pete stopped pretending busy, stacking the Propofol boxes already neatly stacked, and in defence he said ‘You’re not supposed to know’.
I confessed, ‘I didn’t know, but you’ve just told me just what I needed to know’. He smiled and elbowed me round my neck. ‘You cheeky devil Naj’.

I did my usual smug annoying face. ‘Tell me’ I insisted. “He’s doing good but it looked nasty. We don’t know till the histology comes back.”

I was speechless for a while and images of Dr. G smiling while watching me drenched in adrenaline stuttering my answers to his grilling question flashed one by one before my eyes. It was in mute. Just the exaggerated facial expressions vivid still. I felt deeply sorry.

I desperately wanting to be in there but I know how relatively useless I’d be and plus it is important that not too many people know.

I am on call again tonight and I hope he’s well enough to receive visitors. I know it’d be easy to just go in with my bluescrubs and look at his charts and reports on ITU, but when it’s your own teacher, colleague, boss, sifu, friend, and a father figure, I feel all of this is too overwhelming and the need for his permission is all too important for me. Also I still don’t know quite what to say when I see him there all wired up. Get well soon? Miss your grilling?

Going to ASDA to get some fresh flowers. I hope he’s not allergic to any of them.