February 28

Stuffed OT

Operation Theatre.
OT.
Least crowded place in a hospital.
Yet, it is too crowded with smells.
The smell of existence of air.
The smell of virgin colours.
The smell of green walls. Blue scrubs. White crocs.
The smell of translucent talks through masks.
The smell of neatly covered curls through hair coverings.
The smell of eyes; staring, talking, commanding, suggesting, hazy, teary…
The smell of sterilized gowns. Clean water. Rubber gloves.
The smell of scorching lights.
The smell of beeps of machines.
The smell of lines and curves on screen.
The smell of Betadine. Spirit. Wet smoke. Burned tissue.
The smell of uncomfortable clothes.
The smell of red blood.
The smell of talking instruments.
The smell of working brains and conversing hands.
The smell of trust. Doubt. Love. Hope. Empathy. Fear of death.
The smell of healing, hopefully.

Operating Theatre


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Posted 28 February, 2015 by Puzzle Piece in category "Steth Sounds

About the Author

I scribble. I paint. I make crafts. I daydream. A lot. I read. I listen. I nag. Basically, I am one of the puzzle-pieces, trying to figure out where I really fit in. Um...and incidentally, I happen to be a medical student.

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