Snippet #1207908

David

Most doctors hated the paperwork portion of completing a surgery. I didn't. Most doctors preferred to work with patients rather than avoid them. I didn't. Most doctors started in this profession to help people. I'm not sure I fit that category. I like the paperwork: patient's name- Eve Sorrento, diagnosis- malignant tumor in the brain, treatment options-radiotherapy, surgery, remission. Easy enough. Problem solved. Things were so much easier when summed up in a file of documents. I wish everything in life were that simple. But things can never be easy when people are involved. There's too much room for human error, stupidity, ignorance, this thing we call 'free will'. By all regards this Eve Sorrento is an easy fix. I can see the problem: a tumor. I can see the solution: surgery. Easy fix. What I can't fix is the effect on her three children: Marie age twelve, Antony age nine, and Robert...age four. What I can't see is her husband’s face as he tries to pay the medical bills. What I can't fix is the tears in his eyes as we shave his wife's head to prep her for surgery.

I spend most of my days buried in as much paperwork as I can get, preparing files, surgery strategies, examining x-rays, scheduling appointments. I'm a glorified secretary. The precious moments either in my office or elbow deep in someone else's blood: those moments, for some strange reason, I can tolerate. But they're short lived. Then come the questions: How did it go? Not as well as we liked. What does that mean?During surgery we removed the tumor and uncovered a slight tear in the brain tissue causing a hemorrhaging. Is my wife alright. We won't know until she wakes up, but it's unlikely she'll make a full recovery. The size of the tear is causing her brain to bleed unnaturally. Is my mommy going to die? We've done what we can. Only time will tell.

People look the same when they hear news of such a nature. First their eyes are round, eyebrows raised in hopeful anticipation of a happy ending. Then, as the weight of the burden hits them, their nose wrinkles, their eyebrows drop, tears stain their eyes red. A jerk of the head, two paces backward, balled fists, and mouth open just enough for a weak choking noise to emit from their throat. Some people sit, other pace, saw a guy punch the wall once, a few times women have collapsed against me looking for comfort. Those are the ones I dread the most. What comfort can I offer? Their mother, brother, cousin, grandparent, lover...they were just another file to me. I didn't know them. Never saw them smile, hear them laugh, watched them while they slept. I cut them open with a scalpel, tried to minimize bleeding, and signed my initials in all the correct places. What do I know about them?

Eve Sorrento: deceased.