“Brought these,” Alex said, handing four CDs to Cole. One Cal Tjader, two Freddy Kings, and one Albert King. “Some of my prime music.”
Cole quickly shuffled through the discs. “Wow, these are terrific. Especially Freddy’s Texas Cannonball album. And Tjader’s ‘Doxy.’ What order you want?”
“Dealer’s choice.” He set the mitered wood box for his loupes on the stainless steel counter, freeing his hands to begin sorting CT scans to display. “Love them all. Especially ‘Answer to the Laundromat Blues.’ Although Freddy’s ‘Stuck In Lodi’ is a close second. Listen the hell out of that one.”
“Excuse me, Doctor Cutter.” the chief resident popped his head into the OR. “You seen Brett Johnson this morning?” Brett was the first-year resident recently assigned to his service.
Alex set down the scans. “No, I haven’t. Why?”
The resident appeared to choose his next words carefully before stepping a bit closer and lowering his voice. “Apparently the paging operator couldn’t reach him all night. I was wondering if maybe he’d been working with you.”
Alex resumed sorting CTs. He’d recently caught a whiff of grumbling amongst the residents concerning Johnson’s performance, but nothing concrete—mostly issues with his availability when taking call. He and Reynolds tended to delegate minor disciplinary matters to the residents in the belief that peer pressure could be more effective than top-down dictatorial rule. “Haven’t seen him.”
“Okay. I’ll have the general surgery resident scrub with you till he shows.”
Alex nodded. First-year general surgery residents hated their mandatory rotation on neurosurgery, mostly because they weren’t allowed to do much in the OR or were saddled with the scut work the higher-ranking neurosurgery residents sloughed off on them. The reverse happened when the first-year neurosurgery residents rotated through general surgery, so it was a mutual “fuck you” situation. Since surgeons of each specialty needed a firm grasp of surgical theory and principles, the cross-fertilization experience was seen as worthwhile. Besides, you never knew what kinds of situations one might encounter in the real world. Alex once met a general surgeon in Alaska who saved a patient’s life by removing an epidural hematoma before air-evacuating him to Seattle. The astute surgeon witnessed a similar surgery as a first-year resident.
Alex was at the scrub sink taping the top edge of his mask to the bridge of his nose when the general surgery resident showed up acting mildly annoyed. Alex felt sorry for him.
Alex and Chuck were draping the patient when Brett Johnson pushed through the doors into the OR. “Morning, Doctor Cutter.”
Alex glanced at the wall clock and noted the time. “You’re late, Johnson.”
“Yes, I am. Sorry about that. Had to finish up a patient over at the trauma center. I’ll go scrub.”
“You’re off the hook,” Alex told the surgery resident. “Go see if there’s another case you can help on, and thanks for covering.”
Without moving his eyes from the wound edge, Alex reached up toward Chuck. “Rainey clip.”
Chuck placed the clip applier snugly into Alex’s hand. In one smooth motion, Alex had the plastic clip over a small length of incision and released the applier, so the clip now compressed the freshly cut scalp edge to control bleeding. This process would be repeated along both edges of the incision. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Johnson push back into the room with his hands up, skin glistening wet. Johnson called to Chuck. “Need a towel.”
Alex glanced at the clock. “How long did you scrub?”
“Five minutes. Why?”
“You sure about that?”
“Why would I lie?”
Good question. “Because you only scrubbed for two minutes. I timed it. Go back out and do it right, Johnson, and this time make it a full five minutes. I’m timing you.”
“Sorry,” Alex said to Chuck once Johnson left the room.
“Don’t be. It’s those little things, cutting corners, that end up biting you in the ass. Learned that one a long time ago. The hard way, too. Thing I like about working with you is you go by the book and don’t shortcut good technique. Keeps us both out of trouble, which actually saves time in the long run.”
Alex appreciated that he and Chuck were like-minded. “Thanks. Rainey.”
Once Johnson gowned and gloved and stood shoulder to shoulder with him, Alex said, “Since this is your first day on service let me ask you—what do you know about the way I do things?” Alex continued working, Chuck handing him the correct instruments without being asked.
“Don’t know a thing.”
Bullshit. A universal fiber of every residency culture was the gossip pool, the chatter between members—comparing notes and criticizing attendings. This program was no different from any other.
“Okay then, here are the rules of engagement …”