《Short story: The Unwilling Surgeon》


 The Operating Table

    Sweat trickled down my brow as the murmur of the observing surgeons and trainee surgeons filled my ears. I''d succeeded in avoiding any "teaching" for over a year, but had finally caved in to the endless requests from colleagues, other famous surgeons and of course the students. At least I''d have half a year of so of reprieve from the requests after this.


    "Saw." The words a bark, emerging from my mouth without any input from my conscious mind.


    My hands moved in a blur of blood and steel before me. I was performing a heart transplant, I knew that much. But despite doing this for years, I still had no idea about the terminology, the nitty-gritty. I''d tried to learn, but it just wouldn''t stay in my head. On top of that, the sight of blood makes me nauseous.


    As always, I tried to unfocus my eyes and allow my body to do what it did best.


    "Hold this." My mouth said to a nurse, whilst I attempted to stare at the ceiling, I could still, dimly, see myself pulling the breastbone apart.


    "Scalpel." The murmuring grew slightly.


    "Holder."


    "Forceps."


    "Take this." A wet slapping sound. "Donor heart." I felt my hand gesturing impatiently.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    "Sutures. Needle."


    I spared a glance downwards, seeing my arms buried in the patients. At least it was almost over.


    A few bloody moments later, and thunderous applause erupted around the room.


    "Fantastic..." I heard someone murmur, "so fast - like an artist."


    I tried to turn and face them. Shake some hands, accept their congratulations, avoid the questions, and get out of here.


    I couldn''t move. With dim horror I realised my hands weren''t done.


    "Scalpel." The words uttered from my mouth in the same impatient bark, and my terrified assistant''s eyes widened in alarm as she realised I wasn''t done.


    I started cutting. The room was instantly quiet, applause cut off mid clap.


    "What is he doing?" I made out from behind me, "I... I... don''t know, there aren''t any other procedures to be done for this patient, certainly not a craniotomy" Both were still talking very quietly, no one wanted to disturb me. The entire room was simply observing. They trusted me far more than I did.


    "Electric saw."


    I watched with horror as I began sawing open the skull.


    For once my hands slowed down, the motions gentle and slow - they typically moved with brutally fast efficiency.


    "...a tumor!"


    "...how did he know?!"


    As my hands closed the hole in the skull, I prayed it was over. Finally I felt control return to my body, and turned, exhausted, to face the crowd as I stripped off my clothes. The applause was deafening.


    The questions came in a barrage.


    "How did..."


    "Why..."


    "Can you explain your technique with..."


    I stumbled through them, shaking hands and receiving endless thumps on the back.


    Finally I made it out the door and with a few deft twists, ducked down a side corridor and found a cupboard to hide in, releasing a deep sigh.