the underwear drawer

30 posts in 30 days, day 10: at least we had masks

I noticed that I'm writing much more about work-type stuff now that I've started doing these mini posts. Probably because usually, between privacy issues and the humdrum of routine, there's not all that much to say about work that would fill up more than a sentence or two anyway.

Yesterday I was in a case where the surgeon kept farting. I don't think he was embarrassed or anything, because he certainly wasn't trying to hide it. Poot. "Woah, there's another one," he'd note mildly, perhaps for the operative record. Braaap. "I haven't been eating anything different, I swear." I tuned out when he and the scrub tech started discussing dietary choices and the gaseous potential therein. ("Potatoes, definitely potatoes.")

I pitied all of us, being in that room, but I felt especially bad for the med students. There were three of them standing in a row, about two feet behind the surgery attending, their eyes watering. I could tell they were just scouring their mental editions of "Surgical Recall" trying to figure out the correct etiquette for this situation. Move away or stay put? Acknowledge or ignore? Laugh or cry?