Not exactly rocket science

It's a bit eerie to see a thin 20something young woman lying there completely unconscious, completely naked, her limbs being repositioned and sterilized by four female nurses, six male surgeons, being watched by two med students and one terrified undergrad, all of us completely hidden behind scrubs, caps, and masks.

She could be someone I know. Until they turn her around and I see the giant lump protruding from her shaved head. This isn't her first brain tumor.

A craniotomy is exactly as violent as it sounds. But there's more blood than you're imagining. The neurosurgeon I am shadowing, along with his resident, worked almost silently for two hours, occasionally adjusting the overhead light or their seating on the stools.

The med students kept trying to narrate the procedure to me (it seemed like a competition?) until they switched to asking if I was going to puke. "It's totally okay. It's normal to be queasy the first time. The important thing is you do something about it." Read: don't you dare do it on my shoes. These have to last through all my rotations.

A live brain looks significantly different from the kind I am used to seeing. I wasn't queasy, but I was definitely worried. I'll be seeing post-op patients next week and hope to see her. I'm also hoping I won't say something stupid like "Hi I've seen you naked!" or "That sure was a lot of blood!" or "Can you believe they just put a chunk of your head in a bowl on the counter?"

All in all, a far cry from the tedious, fat-snipping stomach stapling I saw earlier in the week.

Definitely up there on the Life-Changing Experiences list. Not in the way of writing a "Describe a life-changing experience" essay, more like, being grateful to my fifth-grade self for making a good decision.

Welcome, new readers (or, old readers of whom I have only recently become aware). I'm afraid my straight male readership is now heavily outnumbered.