More cutting

I wonder why it has taken me so long to write again. Things haven't been particularly busy apart from my readmissions audit. Ah, no, I was on nights. Funny how you forget that.

Leave Tom partly in the lurch and come up to theatre and do three appendicectomies in a row. Two of the patients are anxious young women, which is perfect; unlikey to be appendicitis in all truth, perfectly preserved anatomy and the opportunity to learn in a situation where you can't really go without an operation but aren't surprised when there's nothing there. There isn't, of course.

The chap is a different matter, with anm awful matted appendix, friable, screaming to fall apart and a caecum which staunchly refuses to be delivered through the incision. Alex takes over, crimps the stump and ligates it, then worries about the mesoappendix. It makes life a lot easier, this odd twist.

I'm sitting here wondering if it right that I should practice my skills on people like this. But then I think if I don't, what hope in years to come?

Primum Non Nocere. I'll have to think hard about that.