I don’t do orthopaedics very often, but I knew my surgeon had an Asian name.
As I arrived this morning, I spotted a confident looking Asian man who looked vaguely familiar, and so I asked him if he was my surgeon. He just looked witheringly at me, said “No”, and walked off unsmilingly. I figured out later on who he was, he’s the same surgeon who bought a Toyota Prius last year, and was very unhappy when someone jumped into the passenger seat while he was waiting at the lights, and asked to be taken to Courtenay Place. I understand his chagrin at being mistaken for an Uber driver, but I hope I’d be able to see the funny side.
Yes my surgeon is also Asian, but luckily for me he is lovely and has also been very patient so far.
Our second case seemed to go very well, until her spinal wore off and I had to put her off to sleep. When I took her through to the recovery room, she started crying and saying “I can’t believe it!” I felt awful that she was clearly so upset at having to have a general anaesthetic after all. But, no, she was very grateful, and was just pleased it was all over. I suppose our detailed conversation about exactly what Do Not Resuscitate orders mean in the perioperative setting may have ratcheted up her anxiety levels just a trifle.
I’m just trying to remember what list I was doing last time I felt uncomfortable and out of place like this. Was that orthopaedics too? Maybe it’s time I got a little more chill about the whole business. In any event, our final patient is young and slim, and his spinal was a breeze. It’s working well so far so it’s possible I’m going to end the day on a high. It’s his birthday so it would be too cruel if anything were to go wrong.