THE SURGEON'S LIFE

You’d think that after twelve years of intense medical school and seven years of practice, I’d be an expert at this already. But no, I’m still sitting here in my office chair staring at my empty cup of coffee, tapping my foot on the floor so hard I’m scared I might break the tiles, counting down the minutes till the nurse walks in and tells me “Doctor Audrey, the patient is prepped and they are waiting for you in the theatre”. 

The Nation Daily Magazine did a feature on me two weeks ago. What was it they said about me? That I may well be the next Diana Jean Beck of this generation. That I was an inspiration to all upcoming neurosurgeons and that my success rate was off the charts. They wanted to set up an interview between me and one of the patient’s I operated on two years ago. I’m still thinking about it. I'm not one for praise, all it does is add pressure on you.

You know that feeling when you set your bar so high up that you live in fear and anxiety that when you have even the slightest slip up or the tiniest of errors you are gonna hate yourself for it and people will lose their faith in you? That is the feeling I get every time I am about to walk into that operating room. There is absolutely no room for mistakes, no room for bad decisions and above all, there is no room for failure. This is a rigid and unhealthy way to live- at least that’s what my therapist says. He keeps telling me that I can’t save everybody and I always snap back with “it wouldn’t hurt to try”.

I often envy other doctors and surgeons. How do they not feel anxious before a major procedure? How do they manage to separate their emotions from their work? Or maybe, like me, they have mastered the art of acting like everything is alright. Maybe behind closed doors their hands are shaking,their faces are sweating, their hearts are beating out of rhythm and their throats are closing up and they feel like they're suffocating. Maybe it's not just me who panics before every procedure. It's the thought that people are looking up to you to to save the lives of those they hold dear. It's the thought that on the opposite side of the glass, someone is on their knees in tears, praying, begging God to return their son , their daughter, their mother, their wife, their husband or friend to them. It's the thought that these people believe that you are the solution to their problems.

Today is different though. My patient is an eleven year old girl-Lilly. She's the only child of her parents so no pressure there. She has the sweetest little smile, kind that makes you happy even on those stressful days. Which makes it so sad that she has a brain tumor that we in the medical field call glioblastoma multiforme.

First thing they teach you in surgical class is that every surgery, especially any that’s neurological, comes with a lot of risks and that anything can happen on that operating table. This case is unique not just because this is a tumor that’s very rare in childhood but because the little girl whispered to me that she wants to be a doctor like me one day- how adorable. Anyone in the medical field will tell you that the prognosis for this particular tumor is not good; with patients hardly surviving past one to two years. So I feel sad for the little girl and for her parents but as a doctor I’m not supposed to mix work and emotions.

Last night I downloaded this app in the app store. It’s a yoga app. A colleague once told me that yoga calms people down and makes you one with your spirit ( whatever that means). Maybe I was doing it wrong or maybe the music was off but it just didn’t seem to help so I gave up. I tried to look for other relaxation exercises online, even tried some breathing exercises but I still couldn’t get over this heavy feeling I had.

I should mention that I have a seven year old son- Ryan- that’s his name. He's the most innocent little boy. Says he wants to be a rockstar when he's all grown up. Guess that means I'm gonna be seeing a lot of dark posters and pictures of skulls and crosses in the future and I might have to soundproof the house soon. So as a parent, I know what it’s like to stand at the edge watching your child suffer and there’s not much you can do for them. I get scared when I get home and can’t find Ryan for two minutes so to be faced with the possibility that you might not get to see your child ever again or that the time left for you to be with them is on a countdown makes my heart sink for those parents.

I made it through the night somehow and now here I am at the hospital. I have to look fine and confident and calm. I can’t have my patient or her parents feeling like this is the end of the road for them. This is why I stay hidden in my office and avoid any interaction with the patient until it’s time to start operating. I’ve had three cups of what they call “Biohazard coffee” and my heart is racing at 180km/h. They say this is the strongest coffee in the planet and I do not disagree. Thankfully, my hands aren’t shaking so that’s a good sign. I hear footsteps- tiny fast footsteps. That must be nurse Naomi. This must mean it’s time. The nurse is here to get me. So I take one hard look at the mirror in the corner of my office and say those three word that I’ve always said since I first started saving people’s lives “You got this”.

“Doctor Audrey, patient is ready and prepped. It’s time”, I hear the nurse say. I get up, straighten my shoulders and head for the OR. As I walk down the hallway, I say a little prayer to God asking him to work through my hands. I have done this so many times before and I’m certain that I can work my magic one more time.

By Audrey_Mary_Nyambura