Friday, March 19, 2010

Theatre 10

Theatre 10 is ..... just that.

It's the 10th theatre in a complex, of, I forget how many, but lets say 15. It is situated in a corner, directly across from the catheterization lab, and if you are ever priviledged enough to get your hide through its doors, you feel it immediately.... The atmosphere is charged with a million little electrical impulses and there's permanently an excpectant air of anticipation hovering in that tiny space between the conscious and the subconscious.

It's the lions' den, the spider's web, pandora's box, call it what you like ... but the exclusive domain of the cardio-thoracic surgeons is like stepping onto another planet ... there are no rules, and it sure ain't for the faint hearted.

Now in the surgical hierarchy, it is common for the general public to equate a brain surgeon, to a rocket scientist. You know, the guys with an abundant amount of grey matter to spare. But contrary to popular belief, in the medical world, it's the heart surgeons, albeit a little less bright than the brain surgeons, who actually rule. Here, speed and balls, definitely outweigh brains and balance. This is most likely a self-appointed position, sort of like Robert Mugabe. So they blow their own trumpet, assume first place, and who ever doesn't agree ... well doesn't deserve the oxygen he breathes, and is invited to donate his heart to research.

At times, one can almost understand it ... there really is a huge weight on their shoulders. So if believing that they are Hercules makes it easier to carry, so be it. Imagine taking a sick heart into your hands, stopping it, fiddling with it for a couple of hours, putting it back, kick-starting it, and expecting it to take up right where it had left off. Perhaps I too would imagine that I could walk on water! The fact that an entire team is bubbling away beneath the surface to keep their sorry asses from submerging, is totally irrelevant of course.

Be that as it may, oozing confidence can only be a good thing. So ... you either beat them at it (which is virtually impossible), or join them. A sink or swim ... oh sorry, walk on water ... situation.

Even as an anaesthesiologist, the satisfaction gained from a succesfully sorted out stabbed heart, is hard to beat. The speedy preparations, the barely controlled urgency, the joint efforts on numerous levels, take about 5 years off your life, but the thrill ... priceless ...
The cold cases are less exciting for me, I think it's cause I get to look into the patient's eyes for just that fraction too long, and end up pondering the fragility of life for just that bit too much.

Being the adrenaline junky that I am, it pains me to say that I haven't done a heart since completing my training. In my opinion, it's not something to do occasionally. You either do it, and do it properly, or best leave it alone. But the little voice in my head ( and, no I'm not schizophrenic yet), still asks whether I miss the cases, or whether it's the uniquely captivating world of theatre 10, with all its ambivalent extras, not to mention the bunch of over-inflated water- walkers for whom I actually harbour a grudging respect,
(but can never admit it - or they might just believe they can fly next), that has me pining.

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