Second First Impressions
Dr. Trunchbull was a jerk-a genuine, grade-A, screaming, swearing sadist. Even online reviews from his patients said that his bedside manner was downright rotten. It was a wonder he had any patients at all. Techs and nurses alike cringed when assigned to his room and he’d reduce more than a few staff members to tears during his tenure at the hospital.
I knew there was a possibility that someday I might be subjected to Trunchbull’s wrath, but I was still a student and prayed the educators would take pity on me. They did not. To their credit, the OR staff tried their best to put a good face on it, but their fear for my welfare was palpable. As expected, Dr. Trunchbull showed up that day yelling and screaming and swearing at anyone and everyone throughout the case. It seems, despite being a student, my psychic tech powers, which allow me to anticipate what he wanted, hadn’t developed fast enough and simply asking for instruments (like a normal human being) was a horrible inconvenience-a transgression best reprimanded with profuse profanities. I didn’t cry that day, nor did I give in to his histrionics, but I was never so glad to leave an OR suite in my life.
Well time passed and I hopped from hospital to hospital, building my education and career. My day with Trunchbull stuck with me, and every crabby surgeon I encountered was measured against the level of abuse I experienced from him. On a scale of “Nicest Ever” to “Trunchbull” most surgeons fell to the “nice” end of the spectrum.
Then one day it happened, Trunchbull was scheduled in my OR. A completely new set of staff trotted out their diplomacy act (Oh, he’s just…ummm…particular.) but I wasn’t buying it. I scrubbed in and prayed for the best…or some act of God that would get me out of the case.
As with any other unfamiliar surgeon, I introduced myself when he entered. My salutation was ignored, but I figured being ignored was better than being screamed at so I let it go. We started the case and it became apparent that not only was I scrubbing, but I’d also have to assist. Awesome. I did my best to please him and put on my fake-enthusiastic “Oh my god, we are SUCH an awesome team!” face. It must have worked because I made it through the case without so much as a raised voice.
The next day, he was back in my room. Talk about drawing the short stick twice! I put my biggest smile on and scrubbed in. “Good afternoon, Dr. Trunchbull. It’s SO NICE to see you again.” This time, I was actually acknowledged (without a hint of anger or sarcasm, I might add). We did the case (with my sorry self assisting…poorly) and, once again, Trunchbull’s demeanor was surprisingly pleasant. At the end of the case, he praised my performance, thanked the staff, and then shook my hand! For a second, I thought maybe I had passed out and this was some weird hallucination, but the solidity of his grip grounded me in reality.
This was not the monster I’d remembered from so long ago. This surgeon, while perhaps more finicky than most was, on the whole, like every other surgeon I’d come across. Maybe I misjudged him horribly on our initial meeting? Maybe he had mellowed considerably since our first encounter? Perhaps, I’d improved as a tech and learned how to deal with difficult people more effectively or maybe he’s still rotten, but a really good actor when he wants to be. Whatever the reason, I feel fortunate to have been given the opportunity to overwrite my awful memories of Dr. Trunchbull with new, brighter memories of someone I wouldn’t mind working with in the future. I guess sometimes you do get a second chance to make a first impression.
