Blood-brain-barrier.

One thing that I learnt very early in my training as an anaesthesiologist, and that still baffles me to this day (10 years later!) is the almost irreconcilable differences between us and the surgeons. Allow me to make it very clear from the start, that this is by no means a generelization. All surgeons are gems, but some are certainly more polished than others. It's the unpolished, rough diamonds I wish to get off of my chest today. So all of you brilliant cuts out there, just sit back, relax and let me vent.

We survive in a symbiotic environment whereby surgeon needs anaesthetist and vice-versa. Yet when in close proximity of a "roughy" as I like to call them, one would swear that we and only we, are the parasites! As a registrar I mistakenly believed that this attitude problem was due to the torture the poor surgery registrars had to endure, both physically and emotionally.
Couldn't wait to get into private practise and enjoy decent, fun and equal relationships with the gems ie discussing the patients together, cracking the odd joke in theatre (across the blood-brain-barrier) and most importantly trusting each other.

Luckily or unluckily for me, I am a cross between an idealist and a realist. So everytime my parade gets pissed on, I just clean it up and start again! But sometimes even my mops get saturated and this is where my story actually begins...

I am a recent expat... That in itself is quite a challenge. So here we are... new country, new life, new hospital, new job, new colleagues, but (thank God for small mercies) same DATEX machines. Due to my above-mentioned personality flaw, I really thought that the transition period between "new" colleague and "regular" colleague would be difficult, but manageable.
I was even almost excited (amidst my fear) and couldn't wait to do my beloved job again!


Enter roughy...


"so...you are the new one..." Yes, that would be me, pleased to meet you. "everytime they get a new one, I get stuck with all the problems. I've tried them all around here and not one can give me what I need. Let me tell you that in my long and prestigious career, the 3 sole haematomas I've had where unmistakeably due to the anaesthesia" Really, I'm sorry to hear that. "It's always up to me to tell them what drugs to give, where to position their tubes and even where to stick the tape. What am I going to do with you?" Well you could give me a try and if you find me lacking, no need to use me again, how about that hmm? I actually adore my job, and am quite good at it too, so I might even be okay. What do you think? Should we give it a shot and see what happens?

Exit roughy...

I kid you not, he just looked at me with total contempt, shook his head, turned around and walked off mumbling under his breath. He had never seen me before and this entire session took place in the recovery room in full view and hearing of half the theatre staff.

Out came the mops in full force!! Mop, mop, mop!! Mop, mop, mop!! Mop, mop,mop!

I am a firm believer of the saying, "how someone treats you is their karma, how you react is yours" ,by Dyer. So now I have a bit of a dilemma... Do I lower myself to his unpolished standards? Do I follow my gut feeling and tell him to go get screwed? Bear in mind that he is about my dads age and honestly I still do have respect for my elders! Do I just keep mopping my parade clean and smile? Do I dope for him and prove myself as a worthy anaesthesiologist? Do I swear on my life never to share a theatre with a common little rough pebble like that?

Perhaps I should fall back on the age-old concept of the blood-brain-barrier! Roughy the blood, me the brain and the screen draped over the patient, the barrier...