Back in the OR today. The same OR where less than three weeks ago angels were tending to me and a young, confident gynecologist was facing a known but terrible consequence of trying to do the right thing. I wrapped some presents for the scrub angels, the circulating angels, the ER angel, and my anesthesiologist. I brought in three dozen Dunkin Donuts for the rest of the staff and shivered a little as I walked between the PACU and OR#2.
If I could change the world,
I would be the sunlight in your universe.
You would think my love is really something good.
Baby, if I could change the world.
I entered OR 4 where my partner was operating. Eric Clapton was crooning off someone’s iPod near anesthesia. I went out to the sinks to scrub, came back in, suited up, then stepped up to the table and called for a clamp, another one, then a retractor. Now Clapton was singing “Tears In Heaven.” Can a place feel new yet familiar, a motion be automatic and perfect?
I must be strong, and carry on,
‘Cause I know I don’t belong
Here in Heaven.
I once said out loud but to no one in particular that I would follow Eric Clapton anywhere. Little did I know that today I would follow his voice home.
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