The Surgeon’s Prayer
E “May I Tell You a Story?” BY DICK DUERKSEN
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veryone said she needed surgery, major surgery. “You have to do this if you are going to live,” her physician told her. Her friends agreed. All of them. So she began searching for a surgeon, the right surgeon, the very best surgeon. She wanted to live. But she was afraid. Very afraid. *** He was a surgeon. A good surgeon, sought after by many, recognized as one of the best. Willing to take hard cases no one else wanted. Despised by the nurses and technicians who worked with him. “He’s plain nasty,” one nurse said. “If you disagree or don’t get something as quickly as he requires, he shouts and hollers and throws things. He’s not a nice person. But he is a very good surgeon.” “He’s a miracle worker,” her physician said. “Let’s see if we can get him to do your surgery.” “OK,” she agreed. Then she began to pray. Not for herself. For her surgeon. When her surgery date arrived, a friend drove her to the hospital, where an employee brought a wheelchair and pushed her to the admittance office. When her name was called, she checked in, paid her portion, and was escorted upstairs to a cold plastic chair in the waiting room outside surgery. He had many surgeries scheduled for that day, some in Suite One, and others
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in Suite Three. A team of anesthesiologists, nurses, computer technicians, and medical assistants waited in each room. Ready to do his bidding. Quickly. Without question. Before he asked. A hospital worker checked her name against his surgery schedule and told her she would be called in a few minutes. She sat, worried, and prayed. This time she prayed for her family, her friends, her surgeon, and for herself. “I prayed for courage, and for God to give the surgeon special skill as he cut into my body.” *** The surgeon was busy performing miracles in Suite One when his assistant came to the waiting room and called her name. “You are next,” the assistant said, his name embroidered above the pocket of his crisp white uniform shirt. “Any questions, ma’am?” “Yes, please. Before I go to the operating room, I’d like to have the surgeon come and talk with me. I will wait here for him to come.” “He is a very busy surgeon, ma’am, and he does not come to the waiting room. If you want to talk with him, you will have to make an appointment in his office.” “Please tell the surgeon that I cannot come in until I have talked with him. I will wait here.” She smiled as she said it, trying to look as friendly and nonthreatening as possible. Yet determined, too. Photo: Akram Huseyn
