You were told you need an open-heart surgery. After going through a lot of physical suffering and losing many nights to mental wrangling, you’ve decided on a surgeon who will operate on your heart. You’ve done your internet research and asked friends for the recommendations. Finally, you’ve decided and your diligence paid off. You are comfortable with the choice.
Or that’s what you think.
After a sleepless night, you are lying on the gurney, expecting to see the surgeon in the waiting area before they’ll put you to sleep. Suddenly, a thought comes to you. Who is my surgeon, really? Is he a good person? How’s he treating his wife? Is he a good parent? Is there any drama in his household which would affect his decision-making and his performance under stress? What about the possibility that his wife just told him she’s leaving, and it blindsided him? What about him just finding out from the doctor that his chest X-ray showed a tumor and now he, the surgeon, will need a biopsy?
Then you remember your friend, a nurse in the operating room, telling you all these stories about the drama and things which happen during the surgery. Does he scream? Curse? Throws the instruments? If so, will this behavior impact the results of my surgery? She also told you that people do die it the operating room.
After the procedure, the surgeon comes in, smiles, and asks if you have any questions. He looks good, sounds confident, and you are relieved. But still…
How much do you want to be a fly on the impeccably clean wall in the OR and watch him handling the possible storm?
If you wonder what is going on in the operating room after they put you to sleep, this story is for you.