When Silence Isn’t Golden
It was a good surgery. The consultant was kind enough to let me open the skin and agreed to let me close it as well. He had informed the registrar about my fine subcuticular suturing skills that I had displayed when I assisted him in a case a week ago. My head was already swollen with pride and I was beaming inwardly.
It was quite a simple laparotomy, which took about three hours. “Happy to finish up?” he asked, shifting his gaze to the registrar and me. Before we could answer, the scrub nurse said, “Hold on everyone, we can’t account for one tonsil swab.”
The consultant had already removed his gloves. He asked for a fresh pair and quickly donned them. “Are you sure we brought everything out?” he said. “Let’s wash again. We may find it if it is indeed there.” He searched but found nothing. “Do a recount,” he ordered. “We have done five recounts already,” the nurse said.
The anaesthetist, not knowing what was going on, entered the OR all fresh and chippy. “Done guys? Second case is on its way,” he asked. He was quickly filled in with what was happening. He just looked at his watch and shook his head. He must have made plans for tonight, I thought.
Still no swab. We started checking the floor and anywhere else we could imagine. One of the nurses had started sorting out the trash in the bin in the hopes of finding it. It had already been twenty minutes, and we were still yet to close up the abdomen.
“No closing up till we find it!” the charge nurse said in exasperation.
That was when I remembered.
I proceeded to the bin, scanned through the disposables, and brought out a pair of gloves. I remembered how I rolled it up. Without saying anything, I unrolled the gloves and removed the tonsil swab from inside the glove and gave it to the nurse.
I had been wiping off some blood from the abdomen when I was given a fresh pair of gloves for the second round of gloves change. “Ah?” the nurse exclaimed and muttered something in her native language. The consultant just walked out.
“Is it okay if I close the skin?” the registrar said. “You don’t need to scrub back in.” I nodded.
I wish someone had said something or reprimanded me. The silence was worse. The walk of shame to exit the OR was worse than Lady Cersei in Game of Thrones.
Luckily, this was the last case of the day. I’m not sure how I would have returned if there was another one booked.
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