I work in the OR. Rule number one in that world: Make the Surgeon happy. They can be mean and scary. They will throw instruments and curse at you. They live by a pecking order and if you don’t rank high enough, they will make your life miserable.
Being in the medical field in the Military sets you apart from the regular caste system of the Hospital pecking order. Normally, it looks something like this:
Being in the Military sets us apart. I can say with honesty I’ve never been yelled at, belittled or pushed around… AFTER I tell them I’m with the Navy. Before, I got a lot of “Who the Hell are you and why are you in this Operating Room?”, “Hey Asshole, are you new?”, and who could forget “NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! You are so wrong!”.
Now, when I walk into the OR, the first thing out of my mouth is “Hi, I’m in the Navy and I could very well be deployed to Afghanistan to work on blown-up Soldiers and Marines so I’m going to need you to be extra nice and explain everything to me like I’m four. Also, it’s my first day.”
The mood in the OR immediately shifts. The surgeon is delighted to have me. “Please, retract this Hepatic Artery and get a good look at the Duodenum, you’ll need to know these things when you are saving lives in Afghanistan, what is it like in the Navy?, How long have you been in? Aren’t you a little tall to be on a ship? Ha ha ha!”
Because I am no longer a target for the Surgeon’s rage, it turns to one place and one place only. His Resident. Because the thing about the Hospital pecking order is, it actually looks like this:
They are treated worse than a Boot-Camp Sailor with a speech impediment. They are always wrong. They are trash. They are worthless. I feel bad for them. My friend Boddy was working with one and he dropped an instrument on the floor. Boddy apologized immediately. The Resident? He said “It’s OK. I’m a piece of Shit”.
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