It's no secret that each of us on the surgical team thinks that our role in the OR is the toughest and the most essential job.

Scrub nurses and techs think that, without them, there'd be no one at the surgeon's right hand to offer assistance or pass instruments. Who else is doing the job? they ask. Circulators don't do anything but sit on their tuchus at the computer for the entire case.

Circulators, on the other hand, argue that you can't possibly know what's going on outside of your little sterile world when your attention can never stray outside of it. Did you notice me crawling around the surgeon's feet? I can assure you that it wasn't some sort of worship ritual. The frequency with which they have to troubleshoot electronic equipment that was working just fine not more than 5 minutes ago leads them to believe someone's out to get them (and one of these days, we're going to find out who).

Anesthesia providers do their own thing, of course, and as a group they do it rather well. Still, you'll occasionally encounter one who acts as though he's never wrapped a blood pressure cuff around a patient's arm in his entire career. It was a mild shock to me that time I saw an anesthesia provider hand a cuff to "the turnover help" and ask her to put the cuff on the patient for him.

Finding your role
We're called a surgical team for a reason. Just like on other teams, we have designated positions. And just like on other teams, the people in those positions each have their own jobs to carry out. They watch who's calling the shots and they try to figure out who's the most valuable player.

Is the surgeon the quarterback, or the coach? Is the charge nurse the coach, or the referee? Maybe we all play different positions at different times. Everybody wants to be making the plays and nobody wants to be on the sidelines, but there's an argument to be made that it's the voices and action from the sidelines that get us through the case and through the day. Once upon a time, I was a cheerleader, and I know them to be strong, tough, smart, lean and sometimes mean individuals. Cheerleading is even considered a sport now, by no less of an authority than the American Medical Association.

Stunt doubles
Cheerleading is a study in multitasking done gracefully. Kind of like surgical nursing. Who among us hasn't loaded up both arms with the supplies we've pulled, then used our hips to close drawers and open doors? We've all climbed a pyramid of stepstools to fix elevated equipment with silk tape. We should've gotten a round of applause that time we held a patient safely on the OR table while sliding a supply table closer to anesthesia with our foot.

Cheerleading is also about spirit and support. When it comes right down to it, you could see the entire surgical team as a cheer squad. Like when we really need a first down and the scrub says, "Hey doc, want me to get that thing you liked last week?" Or when I'm losing yardage and someone enters the room to ask, "You've been busy, can I get you something or give you a break?" Or the way your heart starts pumping when anesthesia tells the patient, "Take a deep breath, we're right here with you."

The cheerleader might just be the most important position on the surgical team. It's a role we should all aspire to.