A childhood under OR lights

Born to a family of surgeons. Growing up was different,

Girls in preschool dressed as disney princesses(mostly cinderella) with their ball gowns with ruffles and lace, I used to wear my moms coat, white and over sized. The sleeves covering all of my hands, the coat-tail on the floor like a wedding dress train!!
And the scrub cap was my tiara.

Favorite barbie: doctor barbie
Favorite game: operation

Bed time stories for normal kids are Red Riding Hood or Snow White and the seven dwarfs, mine were more like how you/your sister/ mom/ granny/grandpa/great grandma were born! Breech, cephal, post dated were stories in my head long before I read about them in textbooks!
When I was little obstetrics histories were what put me to sleep!

Puberty is a dreaded time for any girl with a mom who is a gynecologist! Hour long talks about reproduction and the changes your body will go through; not to forget all the modes of contraception! But that wasn’t necessary because on your thirteenth birthday you peek into the labor room looking for mom amidst those screaming women, fumes of liquor and crowning heads you find your sexual orientation: asexual for life. All we asked for is a normal talk about love, relationships and growing up.

Your gran must have told you about how she met your grandpa at a fair and they fell in love one summer, or how she was married by her parents and how now she adores that man she barely knew when she got married. About those summer evenings when he would sing to her. How he would bring her roses every time he got home from his business trips. How she loved watching him when he was about the house fixing stuff with a toolbox in his hand.
Mine told me how she met the greatest surgeon she knew, married him, and then how he helped her with those arrested deliveries, because she needed strong hands to apply traction to the forceps(a hand on a shaft of steel pulling the head of a fetus through a vagina is anything but romantic to a normal person but if you have a family like mine you know it is better than a thousand candlelight dinners) or assisting hysterectomies even though he was tired from a 7 hour gastric surgery, just so he could spend more time with her.

Sometimes when I wanted a school test(I scored bad on) signed, I would go looking for dad at the hospital just before he had to scrub in for a major surgery. He would sign without a second look(worked every single time!). But there is a price to pay, sometimes I would come across a mangled limb, a crushed face or an indiscernible mass of blood and muscle on my way out. A little girl of twelve knew what death looked like.

The smell of freshly baked cake or the strong aroma of indian curry reminds my friends of home.
The only smell that feels like home to me is that of powdered gloves and betadine.

Most teens rebel by doing drugs or getting inked and joining street gangs. All I did was say I will NEVER go to med school. And hell broke lose.

5 years later when I am almost done with my final year in medical school(I couldn’t fight my destiny(parents) for long) every time I step into an OR I know I belong.

My midsummer night’s dream

Let me tell you a hilarious comedy,
Let’s save that polytrauma they said.
Four surgeons ran into the OR,
And everyone ended up wed.

Helena, Hermia, Lysander and Demetrius,
Around the table they stood,
All scrubbed up clean,
Like gods in green.

Hermia painted the enormous abdomen,
Her eyes like orbs ‘neath the OR lights,
Lysander gazed upon her as he wore his gloves,
Benath the mask her rosy lips just out of sight.

Lysander loved Hermia and she loved him,
The fate of Demetrius’s love for Hermia was grim.

Hermia’s father wanted her to marry Demetrius,
After all he is the best in plastics thought he,
And so he told Theseus the chief of surgery,
Theseus was set to marry his love in all Athenian splendour,
He gave Hermia time until then,
She decided to run away and marry Lysander.

As they stepped into the OR that day,
Demetrius was blinded by hate,
nothing could stop him from mutilating Lysander’s face.

The nurse fairy pock,
With his love potion saw this all,
To set things right he has been sent,
By the fairy neurosurgeon Oberon himself.

As Hermia took the scalpel and inscised the skin,
Puck used the potion on Lysander,
He asked Helena for the forceps,
And thus struck the fatal arrows of love.

Puck cursed the masks,
But all was not lost,
He used the potion on Demetrius,
Who then asked Helena to hold the retractor,
He fell in love as Lysander noted a fracture.

Lysander and Demetrius fought the beast to woe the fair maiden,
Through layers of fat and hardly any muscle they toiled.
The jealousy in Hermia’s eyes like blood in a cauldron boiled,
As Demetrius cut, clamped, sutured,
To nail the femur Lysander began to drill.

This time Puck cursed his brain,
And used the potion on Lyssander again.
Lysander saw Hermia this time,
As she handed him the plate,
His love restored to its former infatuation like state.
She held the retractors with such dignity,
After all she was surgeon blood thought he.

When at last the skin was stapled
And all that broken was mended,
At the start they were like a ship lost at sea,
But when they stepped out of the OR,
They were four newly weds to be.