“It’ll be fine. Come on, we need to change and scrub in.”
Fifteen minutes later we were standing at the giant stainless-steel sinks, thoroughly washing our hands, forearms and between our fingers, all foaming pink with medical soap, while we watched through the windows as the surgical teams set Felix up ready to be operated on.
He was already under, the anesthesiologist sitting by his head, monitoring him carefully. Surgical nurses and residents were prepping Felix’s huge body, moving it into position, keeping his right leg to the side and hoisted out of the way, so we could work on his left. Even under the surgical sheets you couldsee the sheer size of him, the heaviness of his thighs, the width of his chest, and he was easily one of the bigger professional athletes I’d ever had on the table.
Static x-ray machines were placed either side of his left leg, as well as hovering above, so that we could constantly monitor his bones in real time, making sure the broken pieces aligned properly while I inserted the metal rod through them to help them heal, and then again when I screwed it into place. To the side, I could see the technician setting up the instrument trays with hammers, drills, drill bits, scalpels and metal wires. To the untrained eye it could easily be mistaken for some type of Quentin Tarantino-style torture equipment, but all of it was necessary for me to get Felix back on the ice as soon as humanly possible. A resident was fixing his x-rays to the lightbox hanging on the wall, next to which was the screen to monitor the constant progress.
Two nurses walked in to help us, fitting Hunter and me with surgical masks and tying our gowns, before holding open gloves for us to slide our hands into.
“We’re ready for you, Doctors.”
“Thank you. Ready?” I turned to Hunter.
“Let’s go.”
We pushed through the doors together and into the room, everyone wordlessly getting into their places as if they’d practiced it a thousand times.
Which a lot of them had.
Because this was a teaching hospital, we allowed doctors from all levels to watch the surgeries in the galleries above each operating room. Today was no different; in fact, it appeared even fuller than usual. No doubt news of Felix’s accident had made its way around the hospital, the gossip train here rivaling the speed of a space rocket at blast-off.
In order to keep Felix under for as little time as possible, there were two teams of residents and their interns in the operating room, each designated to work on different stages of the procedure simultaneously. While the interns were there to mostly observe and learn, the residents would be on hand to monitor Felix, hold his massive leg still while I bored into it or close up his wounds while I created new ones, all accomplished with military timing and precision.
I walked around the table and started inspecting the instrument tray, a superstitious habit of mine from med school, turning each one round on its axis.
“Oh my God, even unconscious Felix Cleverly is so hot. Let’s hope that sheet accidentally slips during surgery so we can get a glimpse of the famous bod underneath.” A voice whispered too loudly.
“Out.”
I put down the drill bit I’d been examining and looked up at the interns, identifying the one who’d spoken because she’d turned bright red, stood stock-still, unblinking. The entire surgical staff was staring at me as I waited for her to move, my eyes the only part of my face visible, making my anger all the more pronounced.
“Did I not speak clearly enough? Get out of my OR.”
“Doctor Marks,” she spluttered, “I apologize.”
Hunter didn’t need to see my face to know how I felt and he would back me up, because even though we squabbled regularly, if there was one thing he hated it was disrespect and insubordination in the OR.
“You heard Doctor Marks. Out. Now. If you can’t have respect for the patients, there’s no place for you in here. Go and wait in my office.”
Everyone watched as she hesitated with arguing, before realizing that Hunter wasn’t kidding, and she stormed out. Ithink it was part of his appeal, aside from his movie star looks. He was extremely good at his job and took it very seriously, and wouldn’t suffer anyone who didn’t.
Hunter turned to face me, his voice quiet. “Okay, Mol. You’re up.”
I took a deep breath, absorbing the calm of the room, before looking down at Felix as I counted back from five, moving into position at his side.
“Alright, music on please.” I held my hand out. “Ten blade.”
The surgical nurse handed it to me as my signature start up tune of Welcome to the Jungle, with the ever-familiar guitar riff blared out, and I zoned in to make the first incision in Felix’s thigh with no hesitation.
Two and a half hours later, I ripped off my mask and scrub gown as I walked out of the OR, throwing them in the hazardous waste disposal. I turned on the faucets to wash my hands again, not blinking while I watched the surgical team finish dressing his wounds, cleaning him up before they took him through to post-op where they’d bring him back to consciousness. I looked down at my shaking hands, trying to stop them as I rubbed soap across them, but I couldn’t.
Hunter joined me at the sink. “You okay?”
I focused on scrubbing my fingernails, digging underneath them. “Yes, I’m good.”
It wasn’t like I’d just performed brain surgery or anything. It was the injury of a seven-year-old boy who’d fallen out of a tree and I’d fixed it the same way I’d fixed dozens of other broken femurs. I could do it with my eyes closed.
The surgery had gone well.
