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Page 47 text:
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A Mystery Story Characters : I-A senior student nurse. A surgeon-QAny resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely co-incidentalj Place: In any one of the eight operating rooms of South Surgery. Time: My first hectic weeks of surgery. The fplotj mystery: Wliat will the Doctor want next? A synopsis: Surgery! as I reluctantly pushed open the door that holds behind it the final phase of our education as nurses, the strangest sensation passed through me-I felt the emotions of fear, anxiety and happiness all at once. Ac last I was to be a surgery nurse. I had dreamed of this moment for years. My first assignment was the tonsil room, and I had always heard that helping with a tonsilectomy was so simple! My troubles began when I tried to assemble all the parts which make up a sluder. I tugged, twisted, pushed and worked myself up into a general state of turmoil but, at last, I got it together. The preliminary preparations were made and we were ready for action until the surgeon indignantly announced that the in- strument had been put together up side down. The pulling and twisting was resumed, this time to take it apart. Finally we were ready to start. My duty was to hold down the tongue, but try as I might the offending organ was always where it shouldn't have been. First I heard, Place the depressor on the back of the tongue and press downward. My sense of direction must have been all wrong for in a second came 'gPress downward! you're cutting off the patient's airwayf' Due to the surgeon's skillfulness a tonsil and not the tongue was extracted, and my next job was to suction the throat. First attempts were futile so the doctor patiently demonstrated to me all the nooks and crannies into which I was to reach, then he turned his head and with it the light, leaving me peering into an endless black pit. In another moment he groaned, you've got the uvula, it's the tonsil fossa I want cleaned out. Blinded with the pain of my ignorance I stumbled through the rest of the operation and rushed out, declaring I couldn't stand another day of it. But I survived several more days before the morning Sister announced, You may scrub for an appendectomy todayfl I had rehearsed every step of this operation, but in my fright I couldn't even tell Hchromic zl' from horsehair.n The surgeon reached out his hand toward me-the first thing I saw on the table was a pair of scissors so I slapped them into his palm. The scissors flew back to me immediately and with them, I-Iemostat ! When the appendix was safely in the specimen pan, came the words, 'gSponge count pleaseln I counted and re-counted, but one ten-sponge was missing. Frantically I searched all the tables and with my every movement I heard the Doctorls foot tap the floor and saw his brow raise and lower. Must everything happen to me? Finally the circulating nurse called out that the missing piece of gauze had been found in the clothes hamper. We proceeded. Suture,', came next-this I had carefully prepared beforehand, so in a split second I had it in the surgeon's reach. I want a round needle, not a cutting needle,'l instantly greeted my ears. Well, how was I to know? The patientls visceral structures certainly looked tough to me. Finally I emerged from the operating room. I was twice convinced this time Ild never spend another day in Surgery. And after a few weeks I saw that even I couldn't remain unlearned always in the arts of surgical technique. One morning I awakened to a realization that I liked preparing the sterile supplies, and anticipating the wants of those mighty surgeons, but my allotted time was nearly over. Everything that had seemed so difficult and complicated was in- teresting and much fun and I sincerely regretted the day I left Surgery. Still, to every new nurse, the mystery remains unsolved-what will the Doctor want next? f '43-
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Page 48 text:
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