Where My Road Began
In a time before surgical technology (BST), I was a manager. I ran a fleet of repairmen who worked on electrical systems I knew little about. I took the job as a temporary position and ten years later I was still there, plugging away at a job I hated. I despised management, but I had no idea what kind of work I wanted to do. I was addicted to browsing websites like Monster and Indeed. I’d spend hours perusing jobs, imagining myself as an event planner, an administrative assistant or a firefighter. My imagination ran wild with the possibilities.
One night after a particularly hellish day at the office, I jumped on Careerbuilder and staring me in the face was an ad: Become a surgical technologist in the U.S. Army Surgical technology? I googled “surgical technology” and came up with a vague job description, but nothing giving me a good idea of what it was all about. Something about it must have stuck with me because over the next week, I found myself thinking more and more about pursuing it further.
I set up a conference call with the program director at the local tech school. I compiled a huge list of questions: Job tasks? Schooling? Wages and career outlook? What I didn’t know is that all of my questions (while helpful) would be eclipsed by the three questions that would change my life.
The day of the call, I was introduced to Miranda, the program director. A friendly and bubbly person, she patiently answered all of my questions and asked me about my career history and my ideas of what surgical technology was all about. She gave me a rundown of the program and a detailed description of what surgical technologists do. Then she said, “I want to ask you three questions.” 1) How many pairs of scissors do you have in your house? (3)
2) Do you know exactly where they are right now? (Yes. Of course!)
3) Would it bother you if you went to get them and someone had moved them? (Oh god. Yes! HOW DARE THEY!!) “You need to sign up for the surgical technology program.” She said definitively.
At the time, I didn’t understand how answering those three questions could accurately define whether or not someone would be a good surg tech. Yes, a tech needs to be organized, but that couldn’t be all there was to it. Now that I’ve been in the field for a while, I think I understand. It’s not just simple questions about scissors. It’s asking,
“Do you feel a sense of responsibility and accountability for things in your control?” “Are you cognizant of your surroundings?” “Do you value attention to detail?” “Do you recognize the connections between organization, efficiency, and safety?”
Miranda, in her years of operating room and teaching experience had found a way to vet the potential of prospective surgical technologists by asking three seemingly simple questions. And it worked. While not all the people in my class had the academic fortitude to make it through the program successfully, (It was really freaking hard! But more on that later…) I’d say 95% of them had the attitudes and motivations that were critical to success in the operating room.
This blog post is the beginning of my journey. I’ve gotten a lot of requests from readers asking about my tech school experience, so in the posts to follow I’ll be writing about tech school and clinicals and how it was terrifying and mind-bowing and magical. Because if there’s one thing more baffling than the OR, it’s getting through tech school.
Until next time, stay sterile!
