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On The Other Hand
May. 18th, 2011 08:12 amI gripe about my job here, on a not-infrequent basis. When things get frustrating, it's easy to remember the angry, unpleasant clients, the cases that end in tears, the days where I get stuck in the office hours past closing, the bites and scratches and the general misery that can accompany a life-or-death job. And it can be easy to forget the good parts.
When I'm not performing surgery on a regular basis, I forget that I secretly kind of like it. It becomes this big terrifying demon hovering over my head - dangerous, threatening, and a source of dread - until I start the procedure, and get my hands working, and I remember that it's a craft like any other.
Yesterday in particular I had a surgical case that I was both looking forward to and dreading; bladder surgery on a patient with a particularly serious and painful condition. It had been years since I performed a procedure like this, and I was doing my best not to fret myself into a particularly useless state beforehand. But, as always, once I was cutting and poking and prodding, the sheer awesomeness of what I was doing took over. Surgery will always overwhelm me with just how freaking COOL medicine and biology can be - the fact that I can cut open a living thing, stick my hand inside its internal organs, and then sew it up again is bizarre and amazing and... well, cool. There's really no other word. And the fact that I get to hold this power and ability is beyond comprehension.
Most of all, though, it's a chance to see the direct physical results of what I do. In situations like this, it's easy to see immediate improvement in the life of a patient, both in the actions I'm taking and in the stunning personality change of the animal, from the time they walk into the hospital for surgery and the time they leave.
I am lucky enough to have a job where I make a difference. I may not change the world, or set national policy, or feed a thousand orphans, but I can make things better, directly and personally. And that, when it happens, can make up for a hell of a lot of bite marks and Little Red Riding Hood cracks and late nights....
When I'm not performing surgery on a regular basis, I forget that I secretly kind of like it. It becomes this big terrifying demon hovering over my head - dangerous, threatening, and a source of dread - until I start the procedure, and get my hands working, and I remember that it's a craft like any other.
Yesterday in particular I had a surgical case that I was both looking forward to and dreading; bladder surgery on a patient with a particularly serious and painful condition. It had been years since I performed a procedure like this, and I was doing my best not to fret myself into a particularly useless state beforehand. But, as always, once I was cutting and poking and prodding, the sheer awesomeness of what I was doing took over. Surgery will always overwhelm me with just how freaking COOL medicine and biology can be - the fact that I can cut open a living thing, stick my hand inside its internal organs, and then sew it up again is bizarre and amazing and... well, cool. There's really no other word. And the fact that I get to hold this power and ability is beyond comprehension.
Most of all, though, it's a chance to see the direct physical results of what I do. In situations like this, it's easy to see immediate improvement in the life of a patient, both in the actions I'm taking and in the stunning personality change of the animal, from the time they walk into the hospital for surgery and the time they leave.
I am lucky enough to have a job where I make a difference. I may not change the world, or set national policy, or feed a thousand orphans, but I can make things better, directly and personally. And that, when it happens, can make up for a hell of a lot of bite marks and Little Red Riding Hood cracks and late nights....
