More and more, I wonder if I'm still outpatient surgery material. I don't mean writing for Outpatient Surgery Magazine, but rather keeping up with all those pretty, perky nurses and all those dashing, dexterous surgeons cranking out all those short, same-day cases.
Have I stayed too long at the party? Have I officially become the cranky, crotchety old nurse I swore I'd never be? You know, the one who has to have things done a certain way because it's always been done a certain way. Or maybe a part of me yearns for the golden olden days of the Main OR.
I'll admit, I prefer the longer cases with the slower surgeons. The youngsters bang their heads against the wall when assigned to Dr. Molasses. Me? I clap my hands and jump up and down with my good knee when I get to spend the day — and sometimes the night — with him. Not to wax nostalgic, but I love working with the surgeon who has been doing surgery as long as I have, or longer. There is real music on in the room (and not at a decibel that makes dogs howl). We can talk about the good ole bad days.