Orthopods

When enrolled in a family medicine residency program, the first day of every month, regardless of what day of the week it is, is always a hesitantly anticipated time. We switch "rotations," on the first, with the expectation of pivoting on a dime and doing a 180 degree turn in what you do and what you are expected to know when you get up in the morning. So, on the second of February (I had the first off....SUNDAY), I pounded my coffee and checked my schedule. Orthopedic surgery. For a month....

Now, I'm not entirely sure why my program thinks that a whole month of orthopedic surgery is a necessary thing in a family medicine program...but whatever. I have never liked ortho. I spent a month in medical school doing orthopedics. I disliked it immensely. It doesn't seem very cerebral. However, it's kind of (ok, REALLY) important to know what to do with musculoskeletal problems, so I endured it, hoping that if I forced it down my throat for long enough, it would begin to grow on me. Unfortunately, it did the opposite. I was appaled to go into the OR suite and see little bits of Marrow launching out of the patient and sticking to the ceiling in a vibrant red spray.

So, Monday morning, I headed off to St. Mary's O.R. and threw on some scrubs. Our first case was "fixing" an unfortunate man's acetabulum. The acetabulum is the socket within the pelvis where the hip bone sits. This poor 64 year old man had decided to relive his youth and got a little too agressive on the snowmobile. His acetabulum was in six pieces instead of one and he needed to get a plate in it to stabilize his hip.

Orthopedic surgery is the ultimate "man science" genre of medicine. Most orthopods (orthopedic surgeons) are big, loud, tall, husky, low-voiced, deliberate men who like to "fix stuff." The operating suite looks like a scene from Menards: screws and drills, saws, hammers, chisels, fancy glue, and an instant x-ray machine called a C-arm, so they can monitor their progress while they are scrubbed in. (Contrast this to their intellectual, introverted, skinny, comrades in internal medicine, who carefully use medications and brain power to treat patients...)

Back to our acetabulum guy. I spent most of the duration of the three-hour surgery standing above the patient's head peering over the anesthesia curtain, watching the surgeons (four of them were working on this guy...which left no room for the Resident to scrub in). There was pounding of hammers and wizzing of drills, whirring of screwdrivers, and little bits of bone marrow flying out here and there, adhering to whatever was in its path. After an hour of standing there, I got antsy. After two hours, I needed to do something to keep my mind busy. Luckily, there was some excellent man-music playing while they were working. Old School Rock. Metallica, Poision, Grateful Dead. I was brought back to my seventh grade rebel days when I actually listened to this stuff. I began to mouth the dreadful words from under my mask. I swayed to the beat, bouncing a little to keep myself from keeling over onto the anesthesiologist. It was the ultimate man-O.R. and looked a little like a scene from a car fix-it garage: a bunch of burly men, burly tools, and burly music. Except, instead of having motor oil all over the place, there was.....


ew.


I still don't love orthopedics. Maybe I'll decide that I love it today. I'd be better off loving it, at least for now. It's only Feb 5th and I have a whole month to look forward to....