Scrubs

Scrubbing in for surgery was indeed exciting.

Inscribed on one of the walls up in the MATER :

You put your right hand in

You put your right hand out

Touch another patient

And you spread the bugs about

I don’t even need to get into the hoo-haa involved in infection control in hospitals. It’s absurd at times. I spent 5 minutes scrubbing up only to be asked to scrub all over again because I touched (more like brushed my hand against) an unsterile surface. Nice. All for the greater good I guess.

Burn Baby Burn.

I was positioned in front of the Registrar, with the patient on my right totally unconscious (I hope!).

The first cut was made underneath the areolar crease, approximately 2-3cm wide. The diathermy was then used for the rest of the procedure to both cauterize and coagulate ‘bleeders’. The smell was awful.

You know the feeling one gets when a putrid smell is basically implanted in your brain? The smell of rotting burnt flesh has probably permanently manifested itself in my olfactory bulbs. Yeap. Burning flesh.

....

Surgery isn’t all bad.

No other profession involves people actually begging you to stick a knife in ‘em. Then they pay you loads for it.

Another good reason to become a surgeon :

CROCS!!!

I snapped a photo of my bright green crocs

Cest la vie

I’ve always been biased toward medicine rather than surgery. Then again the door isn’t closed shut. I might just give surgery a chance. At least for the next two weeks.