The Leap

I slipped on the thin flimsy green top and pants, tying a knot at my waist. “Looks like pyjamas,” I thought. The ‘baju’ had been washed and rewashed a hundred times at least. The green faded to a pale apple green and the light yellow lining stained grayish brown. Thanks to my small size, I often had to make do with scrubs a size larger, making me look like a sleep-deprived dwarf in dilapidated, baggy oversized pyjamas.

I snapped the elastic band of the cap round my hairline, tied the mask around the lower half of my face and slipped on a pair of purple Crocs left by the bench. Then I quickly shuffled into the cold corridor.

“Come, quick, time to scrub in,” my boss hustled past me, carrying his silver tumbler full of coffee in one hand. We swung past the automated doors and leant over the stainless steel sink. Hands covered in frothy foam, I tore out a brush from the sterile pack and started to scrub my nails.

“Hurry up,” he said. “We have a long list today.”

I wiped my hands with the hand towel, slipped on the blue cotton gown and the pair of size 6.5 yellow rubber gloves prepared for me and backed into the theatre with my hands clasped to the level of my chest. The patient was on the table, waiting. My boss was already there, cleaning the operation site with povidone iodine and clipping the blue drapes onto the area.

 “Come la. Your turn to do it today.”

I was still new. The ink on my degree had hardly dried. I looked around anxiously. The nurse glared at me from beneath her mask and cap.

“OK,” I said.

I stepped up to the table, heart thumping wildly. A scalpel was handed to me. Technically, I knew what to do. But I had never done it before in real life. Cold sweat beaded on the elastic lining of the cap covering my head. I looked at the blade, then placed it against the patient’s clammy skin.

“Eh, cut la,” my boss said.

Trying not to tremble, I tentatively nicked the skin with the sharp edge of the scalpel blade. I could see the ochre-coloured epidermis part, giving way to the whitish dermis beneath. Tiny spots of blood appeared along the track, like miniature roses blooming on a carpet of snow. I stared, mesmerized. Then recovering my wits, I took a piece of gauze from the metal tray and dabbed at the wound.

“Woi, no need to be so scared one. Just cut deeper only. Like this,” my boss grabbed my hand and guided my next cut.

“Diathermy please,” I said, just like how I watched him say a couple of times before. I racked my brain, trying to recall the next steps which I had read in that thick lavender-covered textbook heavy enough to fracture my toe should I drop it on my foot. The textbook I had often fallen asleep on, leaving smudged drool across its pages.

“Calm down, you know what to do. Just go for it,” I tried to convince myself. Inhale, exhale, inhale. Just do it.

Finally it was over. As I tied the last knot using the instrument tie, I felt my boss beaming from across the table.

“Not bad,” was all he said, “Finish up and write your op notes in the folder.” Then he left. Tumbler of stale coffee in his hand.

I stripped off the damp gloves from my shaking hands, disposed of them in the gaping yellow bin and wiped the sweat from my brow with my elbow. I grinned. Then I washed my hands, strode over confidently to the table by the side of the room and started entering my notes.

“First Surgeon: Dr. Teoh WK”