The Operating Room

In training I spend four months in the Operating Room, that wonderful, scary, fascinating, educational place.

The O.R. always evoked strong emotions for me. I loved the O.R., I hated the O.R., I was enamored by the O.R. and terrified by the O.R. all at the same time. The educational aspects of seeing the human body from the inside thrilled me to the core. The thought of not getting everything right for the surgeon caused me anxiety and gave me diarrhea before I even got to work. I enjoyed the snappy fast paced work of scrubbing and circulating but found it stressful at the same time. What a mixture of emotions this particular rotation brought to me! When I graduated I decided to work elsewhere, even though the O.R. held a strong fascination for me.

Years later when I worked in Labor and Delivery we regularly went to the O.R. for C. Sections. One such Section happened the day before my own son was to have his surgery in that very O.R. It was like a new level of sensory acuity struck me that day. I noticed everything in that room with a heightened sense of awareness- the smells, the sound of the anesthetic machine filling the patient’s lungs with just the right mixture of oxygen and gas, the rapidly dripping IV, the beeping monitors and the hiss of the wall
suction, the smell of the cautery, the surgeon’s eyes, the color green, the brightness of the overhead lights and the subtle interactions between the surgeon and the scrub nurse as she handed him the tools of his trade one by one.

My son would be on that table at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning. I told the anesthetist. He said, “Oh No, why did you tell me that!!” I kind of knew how he felt but I wanted him to give my son extra good care and keep him alive for me. I know how dangerous anesthetics can be. Even though I’ve seen so many, many successful surgeries over the years, still the fear of anesthesia haunts me.

A family friend, who was an anesthetist, told of a young mother who suffered severe brain damage at his hand, when something went terribly wrong. A high school buddy died during surgery from oxygen deprivation due to a problem with the anesthetic machine. Being in the O.R. that day filled me with awe and respect for the people who work here and the great responsibility for people’s lives that they carry in their hands every single working day.

When they wheeled my son safely out of the O.R. the next morning, I felt overwhelming gratitude to the amazing staff who work here behind the scenes. Most patients get to see them only briefly just before they fall asleep. They may never know whose eyes those are peering out between that cap and mask and who it is that watches over them and advocates for them even while they are unconscious.

Thank you to all you amazing O.R. nurses out there who do this every day!