Time Keeps on Slipping
My favorite class when I was in high school was Band. It felt like you’d just sit down to play and WHAMMO!! the hour was already up. On the flip side, the bane of my existence was Math. Which one? Pick one. They were all equally horrible. You’d sit down to work on trigonometry for what seemed like an eternity just to look at the clock and see that only five minutes had passed. BLARGH!!!!
Sometimes being in the OR reminds me of what time passing felt like in high school. The other day, I worked with a surgeon who is known for being speedy on total knee arthroplasties. At the close of case I asked the circulator, just out of curiosity, “What was our tourniquet time?” 38 minutes.
It wasn’t the fastest knee I’d ever done, but it was close. For you non-surgical folks out there, let me put this in perspective. An orthopedic surgeons group in the Southwest estimates that a standard total knee surgery takes between 60-90 minutes (not including positioning, induction, wake up, or transport to/from the OR). We finished our procedure in HALF that time and it was a damn good-looking knee. (No hack jobs here folks!) The thing is: it felt like we were in the room forever. We were talking, laughing, and working at (what felt like) a pretty leisurely pace. I was shocked that time had flown like that. I mean, I’m not complaining.
Less OR time=less cost for the patient and better efficiency for the OR
Less anesthesia time=safer for the patient
Happy surgeon (since we were prepared and didn’t delay him with opening/finding stuff)
Enjoyable atmosphere=good times were had by all
It’s weird because the math doesn’t add up when you try to explain why in some cases time goes by faster. At first, I thought maybe working with “high anxiety” surgeons might be why some cases feel longer than others. But this doesn’t seem to explain the phenomenon. I worked with a surgeon who can do a multiple level spinal fusion in less than an hour, (Multiple websites cited that it take a minimum of 3 hours depending on the number of levels.) but when you’re in that room you feel EVERY SINGLE SECOND of that hour…and then some. He’s a perfectly nice guy. He doesn’t yell or throw things and we get along well, but he is a little impatient and his cases draaaaaaaag despite the fact that you’re busy all the time.
My second hypothesis was that cases you don’t like always feel longer than those you love. This proved untrue as well. I hate cysto cases. You have all of these wires that (to me) look basically the same. The wires flop all over the place. They’re slippery as hell and god help you if you try to contain them once they’re out of their packaging. I love urologists, but seriously? Wires? That’s the best you can come up with? Get your shit together Urology! Back to the original point… I hate cysto cases, but those suckers feel like they’re over before you can even count your raytecs! So much for the “love cases versus hate cases” theory.
My third theory was the equation: fun surgeon + fun case = time moves faster.
Nope. In this case, my theory was disproved by the super cool Dr. Data. Dr. Data knows everything about everything. Quantum theory? Sure! How to make fire with a tube sock, paper clip, and some chewing gum? Yeah! He’s like some crazy hybrid Einstein/Macgyver who can also replace your joints. He’s fun, interesting, and happens to do surgeries I love. And yet, his cases do tend to drag. Perhaps it’s because he’s too busy telling you about the migratory patterns of African versus European swallows to be worried about tourniquet time. Maybe multi-tasking just isn’t his thing (which seems weird because everything is his thing), but whatever it is he disproves my third theory of OR time.
I guess the world will never know the great mystery of how an 8-hour shift can one day feel like 8 minutes and the next feel like 8 days. That being said, I wish all of my fellow techs out there days full of awesome surgeries whether they be the shortest or longest 8 hours of your week.
Until next time, stay sterile.
