Surgery requires planning. Careful projection of all possible outcomes should be accounted for and anticipated. Depending on the risk and/or increased likelihood of any alternate scenario will alter how much time I spend discussing such possible scenarios with the patient and their family. It could actually be a tell of mine. My level of worry about a case directly relates with the time and emphasis I devote to obtaining consent. Granted no one could actually know this as they have no control consent to use for comparison on the matter. So... I guess you just have to take my word for it. They are words that I've relayed thousands of times on repeat. Perhaps the one and only time in my life when the words come without any word searching whatsoever. I can feel myself rushing, verbal waterfall really, to get through it all in one breath, maybe two. By the time I've gotten to three breaths, I notice eyes start to glaze over and smiles straighten out. I realize that the onslaught of possible complications is not a desirable conversation, and yet if I continue, it is due to that direct correlation with my level of worry. I've had a few tough cases recently, for a variety of reasons. One of the best things about a long and drawn out discussion about complications and possible alternate scenarios is when everything is finally done, surgery finished and patient safely in recovery; getting to go talk to the families and tell them, everything went well. The look on their faces makes me happy, perhaps best described as look of relief from fear. I send an extra prayer of praise to Jesus as I walk away to find a computer. It's so cool what I get to do.
Couple of weeks ago, Sarah and I were muddling our way through a day of call, when Katie called us. Sarah and Katie are the two PAs that help us in the hospital during the day. Katie's daughter had fallen on some rocks and the resultant gash on her knee was quite impressive. She got more than a few stitches. The hospital was hosting an ice cream social for its employees so Sarah and I grabbed an extra bowel and treated Ellie afterwards. Let’s just say that Ellie truely fits the mold I have noticed over the years for both age and sex of the toughest patient population out there. Katie got a picture of Ellie, Sarah and myself after our ice cream. :)
And this is what it looks like to have the hospital physician's parking lot turned into an impromptu mechanics garage. After first suggesting it wanted to die on Tuesday, the little Honda Civic kept going until Thursday, at which point it sat sad and exhausted. I had popped the hood and stood staring like by some magic it would clue me in as to the etiology of the problem. There was of course, no such magic, and in fact the only thing that did happen was the CEO of the hospital saw the spectacle and tentatively approached to make sure I wasn't going to be attempting any sort of repair myself. In the end, I swallowed my pride and called for help. I got to sit back and be the surgery tech, pass over the various sockets etc, for the real mechanic as he performed surgery on my car. Very thankful and blessed.
Much Love.
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