Some Like It Hot

Previously, I’ve pointed out that certain aspects of OR life aren’t anything like the show Grey’s Anatomy. In the show’s defense, there are similarities and one of those is: hot surgeons. YES! They DO exist!

Some surgeons (and PA’s) are really, really good-looking. When I started in the OR, I was a little scared of surgeons. At first, it was because they intimidated me. And why wouldn’t they? They are smart, skilled, and generally have very strong personalities. To be honest, I think I was a little star-struck initially. The novelty of their status soon wore off, but it was replaced with a different form of fear. Mainly, the same fear you have when you try to talk to a guy at a bar that is WAY out of your league, only now you are forced to stand in incredibly close proximity to him for hours on end while making every attempt to keep him happy and working (but no pressure or anything).

Some women are immune to the hotness of hot surgeons. I am not one of these women. I’ll admit that I might not mind holding retractors for several hours quite as much if I’ve got a nice set of eyes and a smooth voice to distract me from my achy, shaky arms. Perhaps I’m a little too quick to volunteer to tie up the gowns of the muscular ortho docs. Considering that I lack the necessity for personal space to begin with, I have no problem with a handsome surgeon invading my space-bubble intra-operatively. “You need to work almost completely pressed up against me while I’m retracting, Dr. Sexy? Oh darn.”

My first (and most embarrassing) experience working hot people in the OR was with an ortho surgeon and his PA. Six weeks into my first clinical rotation, I was deemed competent enough to scrub a total joint procedure. It was my first time wearing an ortho hood and I remember the odd feeling walking into the OR without a mask on. The hood went over a headpiece with a built-in fan that circulated air inside. From the outside, it looked like a squishy space helmet with rectangular clear plastic on the front. The surgeon donned his hood, gown, and gloves and soon after, his PA entered the room. The PA was gorgeous. He was tall and handsome with a smile that could melt a Minnesota ice-queen in January-complete with dimples. He donned his gear and the case got under way. I found myself sneaking furtive glances at him as we worked and each time I looked, he met my gaze and I found myself blushing. Every time our eyes met, his smile seemed to widen more and more. I distinctly remember thanking God that I was wearing a mask so that he couldn’t see me blushing or the stupid dopey grin on my face. Then it dawned on me: I wasn’t wearing a mask! I was wearing a stupid hood and Mr. Insanely Gorgeous PA could see my whole face the entire time. At that moment, I must have looked horrified because the PA stifled a laugh from inside his hood and turned back to the field. I spent the remainder of the case desperately avoiding further eye contact with anyone. I eluded further mortification until the surgeon left the PA and I to close. At that point, he was the only other person at the field so I couldn’t ignore him. We made polite small talk and I kept my eyes glued to the wound, focusing abnormally hard on my effort to cut sutures. I could feel my face burning red with embarrassment. He never said a word or called me out on my obvious ogling during the case. I worked with that particular PA several times during my rotation and we cultivated an easy working relationship. During the conversations we had closing subsequent cases, the PA taught me a lot about ortho and small things I could do as a tech that meant a lot to surgeons. I never completely lost the sense of “hubba hubba!” that sprung up when he entered the OR, but over time, our quiet familiarity was something that helped me relax and become more comfortable being on my own at the operative field.

I guess there isn’t really a moral to this story. No insightful surgical wisdom to pass along for the ages. But just consider: while nurses and surg techs get their own weeks of recognition throughout the year, ridiculously hot surgeons and their assistants are not officially celebrated. (Surgical Tech week is in September. Write that down. And I like chocolate if you’re strapped for gift ideas.) So next time you see them, make sure to show your sexy medical brethren some love. Figuratively of course… Don’t want anyone getting busy on the sterile field. That would just be… Ewww.

#sexysurgeons