Retractor No Name

Stardate Log 541221

Surgery Core Day 22

There is now no more skin on my hands. I think I have been yelled at for various things that I have become oblivious to what it is that I have now done wrong. For example:

Another wonderful day in the OR where the attending never ackowledges your existence and you might as well be another piece of furniture. In fact I have conveniently, for their benefit, renamed myself Retractor No Name.

We are doing thyroid surgery. Cut, separate the fascia....."What muscle is this, Retractor No Name?"
"That would be the Platysma."
"Very good." I have been elevated now to living, breathing creature, thank god.

Locate the Strap muscles, separate them and viola Thyroid pops out.

"Retractor No name hold this." A retractor named after someone I would care less of knowing gets shoved in my hands.
"Doctor Resident hold this." Thyroid is shoved into the resident's hand.

Now is the ballet of right angle, tie, scissors, cut as they isolate every freaking blood vessel this humongous thyroid has.

Right angle, tie, scissors, cut.
Hold this!
Move this!
Move this!
You! You didn't have breakfast this morning?

You who? Doctor Resident you or Retractor No Name you?!? Move, hold what?! Thyroid or retractor named after someone I have no desire of getting to know probably because he is dead?

Of course it was Retractor No Name Almighty Attending Surgeon, whose time is too precious to waste and who thinks his shit don't stink, was referring to.

And it was my fault that the surgery had to pause like a split millisecond because I didn't have Wheaties for breakfast and I didn't understand the Arabic that Almighty Attending Surgeon was telepathically transmitting to me.