Suddenly a young OR tech tripped on some suction tubing coiled on the floor and nearly knocked the corrugated ventilator tubing away from Mr. Jensen’s breathing tube.

The anesthesiologist tore into her.

“If you can’t be careful and do your job, then get the hell out of my OR!”

Her face glazed bright crimson and she sheepishly said, “I’m sorry sir.”

Turner, the anesthesiologist,was a bulky 6 foot 7 oak tree and a full 5 inches taller and 50 pounds heavier than Wyatt. He turned his head away from the tech and ignored her apology, giving the patient a few extra ventilations with the ambu – bag attached to the anesthesia machine..

Wyatt briefly stopped closing Mr. Jensen’s abdomen, stared at the oak with his blue eyes some said at times resembled cold steel.  “Accept her apology now Jim, or it’s you who will be sorry.”

Jim remained silent, monitoring the ECG and pulse oximetry waveforms.  Wyatt looked up again from his work. “This tech simply tripped.  She didn’t harm anything. Now maybe you didn’t hear me the first time so I’ll give you another chance to accept her apology or I’ll have your face apologizing to the not so innocent gravel in the parking lot.”

The oak tree shuddered briefly then said, “Yes sir, I will.”  Jim accepted her apology  and then told her to have a good day.

Wyatt Barton, M.D knew he would get called to the hospital administrator’s office, or the “principal’s” office for this event, but he didn’t care. He needed to meet him sooner or later anyway since he was new.  He’d been through much worse than that, usually life and death situations. But he always protected those who couldn’t protect themselves. And sometimes, even oak trees as well – when needed.

© SRC