life is beautiful

dear muffin,

she was nervous. I couldn't blame her.

terse replies were all I could draw out as I finished my work; her face was taut, expressionless.

it's doubtful that anyone in the history of the scalpel has not been nervous in those moments of waiting. moments before the wheels begin to clatter along tile floor, rolling past sterile operating rooms. after all, the idea of having one's insides opened to the world has never been a pleasant one. 

"okay then! I think we're ready." the nurse deposited an armful of IV bags & tubing into my waiting hands. "make sure you keep that piggyback higher than the primary fluid," she said in my direction. 

we helped the woman onto her feet, allowing her to smooth back disheveled blonde hair, & began the procession. the nurse led the way with routine briskness, followed by the patient herself. I took up the rear, holding the IV bags at shoulder height & keeping the train of tubing off the floor. 

her surgery was scheduled for 0800 hours, which meant it was already 30 minutes behind schedule. but no matter. the mass of foreign tissue growing below her diaphragm would be removed, the incision sutured, & before she knew it the whole ordeal would be over. still, no reassurance can shorten the moments before the plunge.

inside the operating room, every surface glinted in sterile perfection. scalpels arrayed with mathematical precision, gauze neatly stacked, suction equipment hooked up & tested. sterile blue drapes were spread over the table, ready to receive the patient.

"and, the surgeons are here." announced the circulating nurse. "Michelle, you want to get them ready?" the scrub nurse nodded & began unfolding blue plastic gowns as the surgeons poured into the room, followed by the woman's husband-- who looked ready to faint. while they scrubbed in, the anesthesiologist struck up small talk with the patient.

"so. how're you feeling?" he asked after a moment. the woman laughed shakily.

"you know that part on a roller coaster, when you're going up & all you can hear is 'click...click...click...?' that's what this part feels like." 

"alright!" announced the head surgeon. "we're a go." the light glanced off the first scalpel as it went in. 

blood. blood trickling down a swollen abdomen. the smell of burnt flesh as cautery hits blood vessel. the surgeons opened the skin with a smooth cut & then burned back the yellow fat beneath. I moved to get a better view.

there; I could see it. a mass rose into sight as the abdominal muscles separated. it was smooth, taupe-colored, with a complex pattern of blood vessels visible beneath the surface. it was larger than I had imagined. the surgeon made one final slice, reached in deep, & pulled. as he lifted, the foreign body came free in his hands.

he held up 8 pounds, 3 ounces of tissue. & as he moved it towards the light, it kicked him.

the room launched into motion. nurses closed in, transferring the now-wriggling mass to a table. the table disappeared from view as blue scrubs bent over to perform a well-practiced dance.

"heart rate 150."

"BP 67 over 35."

"O2 sats?"

"68."

"looks good!" announced the pediatrician, laying aside his stethoscope. a nurse gathered up the bundle & brought it over to the woman & her husband, who was furiously rubbing away tears of joy.

"Here you go," said the nurse with a smile. "Congratulations; she's beautiful."

-rory