This post is an adaptation and improvement in english [ENG] from:Source; a story based on a surgeon's thought during his work: saving lives.

Operating theatres are very cold places, where the sound of a monitor dissipates in the ears of everyone who hears it. The thought flies through the memories of books, the furtive glances and the hustle and bustle. It is not easy to describe what we feel, it is not difficult to feel so much in so little time.

Then I answered:

How does it feel to operate? I mean... You're just opening up that person's body! How does it feel? I kept repeating myself like a fool, because I thought it was so ineffable.

I was so surprised by the simple fact that I had never been asked, that I got lost for a few seconds and then reacted. I wanted to express so many things and at the same time say them in a correct and orderly way that everything just flowed, and I told her...

From the moment I'm washing my hands thoroughly, then I go into the operating room and without touching anything at all, I just think about mentally reviewing the procedure and technique of the surgery, it's like a "flashback" of everything I know I'll do once I start.

Then, the patient is prepared and I proceed together with my assistant to cover him with sterile sheets very methodically to avoid contamination (a 100% sterile environment is needed), and once the whole operating table and the staff are prepared: "the lights are on my hands", any doubt or fear I have will be magnified about 100 times and everyone will see it; so I must take the scalpel like a pencil and start with firmness and security, I have to believe in myself and simply do what I know how to do! Breathe calmly and speak loudly every time I ask for an instrument or give an instruction to my assistants, I should not hesitate but I have to listen to suggestions and set priorities.

I kept on talking and my heart beat, entangled in my tongue:

The steps of any surgery are written in hundreds of books, but each person is so unique and particular that many times we must be able to improvise and analyze difficult situations, including designing new methods adapted to the precarious conditions of an operating room with limited resources. I can laugh, sing, shout, think or talk in a surgery, every moment has its spaces if you know how to manage them, we can not treat lightly the simplest case, but we are not machines either and we must inject a dose of emotion.

When I finished these words I noticed that her eyes were fogged with joy and emotion, and although I could not see her lips hidden behind the mask, I knew that she was hiding a smile.

- But... if you ask me, what do I feel? I would tell you that at that very moment a switch goes off in my brain and an incredible emotion collapses in my hands, as if they wanted to discover the evildoer hidden under that wounded skin and put him under arrest with all the kind of materials we can imagine.... You feel like a superhero layer is knotted around your neck and the cameras focus on you, because you are simply the protagonist of that film.

When I finished those ego-filled words I had to stand as a playwright in action. She was so pleased with my response that I swore that she noticed my excitement as a child with a toy. I had just got out of that chair when I heard in the back of the room, "Dr. M., I'm sorry. Maizo, your patient is ready!" and I turned my gaze.

source	source	source

"When it's your turn to operate on a patient, you feel a tingling sensation in your hands.... It's the desire to heal." Dr. Leopoldo Maizo.

The surgical fields were ready and the operating table in place had happened so quickly that I decided to hurry while I thought through everything I had said. I found the team prepared in place and before I proceeded: with my index finger covered with my glove I drew on the delicate canvas of the skin of that broken lady the place where I was going to begin to operate.

There was a second where my mind changed and immediately as a power switch I asked for the scalpel to become a "surgeon". I left no room for doubt, because I didn't use it during the surgeries, but if I noticed the patient's vital signs more frequently on the monitor, I was sweating despite being below 10ºC and I spoke less thinking about the complex case of a near-fatal fracture; sometimes the silence while we were operating was so intense that I could hear each person breathing in there, how the air crashed into his mouth cover and how my assistants responded to every movement he made, they had to be fast and they were.

-.-

Once I finished the surgery and once I could see that stable near-fatal tibia fracture, the whole team was satisfied and happy with the great job. I was so exhausted after 6 hours of uninterrupted standing labor, hammering, sawing, suturing, and tugging that I felt a thousand steamrollers on my back. With the gloves still bleeding and a sigh as I sat down I could see through the airtight window of the operating room how the sunset began as a rain in the middle of summer cooled the thirsty plants outside. I could swear I felt the predictor of that drizzle that took me out of my mind and into my childhood memories to draw a smile on my face.

Sitting there... There tired... There with a warm smile in the cold room of an operating room.

As my eyes closed, another window opened: the one with rusty frames in the white stain worn down by the years, where the pine wood raised memories of a narrow staircase in a courtyard of flowers and a Chinese vase that my mother decorated every now and then, I don't remember her curtains, but I do remember her landscapes... And that scent of rain when it touched the earth.