Marlot Kuiper

162 Connective Routines Intermezzo: Fainting and/or eating I have been introduced to the surgical domain by the gate-keeper, and after a couple of days it is time to shadow other professionals in their daily activities. I started off with his colleagues from anaesthesia. After shadowing two anaesthesiologists at Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, today, I will shadow dr. Groenraven at Plainsboro’s Children’s hospital. In one of the theatres where dr. Groenraven is responsible for anaesthesia, there are several eye operations planned. It is about 8.15am when the surgeon puts the scalpel into the little patient’s eye. I have been able to note down the briefing and time-out. But now, when watching the tiny bloody eye with the extraordinary long lashes, my knees start to feel weak. I shouldn’t have had this hasty, tiny breakfast! Sweat drips appear above my upper lip, and I feel a nauseous feeling coming up. I know this feeling very well. But in trying not to look stupid, I decide to take a deep breath and hope for it to go over. That’s even more stupid, cause as someone with experience in fainting (It’s a matter of low blood pressure, I believe) I should know that once this feeling comes up, it’s too late and you will faint anyway. As collapsing in the theatre feels ever more embarrassing, with great difficulty I manage to mumble: “I don’t feel so well” before leaving the operating theatre. In the corridor, I seat myself at the floor with my back against the wall and my head in-between my knees. “Are you okay?” says one of the colleagues that just crossed the corridor. “You better go lie down in the staff room, you will feel better soon.” And while he already starts walking away: “It happens more often!” I can’t remember feeling as uncomfortable as I was laying on the couch of Plainsboro Children’s hospital staff room. One of the operating assistants who was having her break and saw me laying there with an awful pale face, put a cup in front of me. In case I had to throw up. When I was laying there, different people walked in and out. Some of them quickly glanced at me, others just kindly smiled as if they were thinking “There we go again..” But no one seemed surprised. At all. Yes I fainted. Two times in total. That day at the Children’s hospital was a near miss. Two times in total. That is over the course of almost 200 hours of observation. Is that a lot? I’m not sure. What I’m sure about is that nobody in the surgery department thought it was. What I’m also sure about is that when I would