Doing Harm by Kelly Parsons

tip appears on the video screen next to the forceps. The purpose of the sucker is exactly what it sounds like. The technical term is vacuum suction device. But everybody I know calls it a sucker, which is pretty descriptive, since it sucks blood and other bodily fluids away from the operative field so that surgeons can see what they’re doing. Since being able to see what you’re doing is one of the more obvious components of a successful operation, it’s an immensely important surgical instrument, but it tends to be underrated because it’s not as glamorous or sexy as the other ones. But I also like to use the sucker to dissect things during an operation, a habit I picked up from Larry. Now I put the sucker to good use, gently sweeping the tumor off the other tissue as I slowly but steadily march along the path Larry marked for me.
    Sweep, sweep, sweep. Using the sucker, I delicately brush the tumor away from the tissue that’s holding it in place. Things continue to go very well, and I begin to wonder what Larry was talking about. After all, this part of the dissection isn’t so bad. Certainly not as bad as he thought it was going to be. My confidence swells, and I pick up the pace, swinging the sucker in ever-more-aggressive arcs that increase the speed of the operation and take me closer toward the area around the as-yet-unseen IVC and adrenal vein.
    The area Larry told me not to work on by myself.
    That last thought gives me pause. I stop to survey my handiwork. I’m now very close to the most dangerous part of the operation, and I really should stop and wait at this point for Larry to come back. I’ve never done anything like this before. But a large portion of the tumor, previously trapped in place, has peeled away in response to my work, curling away from the healthy tissue to which it was previously clinging. I imagine that separated edge of tumor flapping in an imaginary breeze, begging me to keep going, to keep taking it off, to march ahead and finish the operation.
    In my head, the tumor starts mocking me again.
    You ain’t no pussy, are you, Slick?
    I decide to keep going. A little more progress before Larry gets back in the room won’t hurt anything. Besides, I know what I’m doing.
    Luis isn’t so sure. “Steve. Shouldn’t you stop and wait for Dr. Lassiter to come back?”
    “No. We’re okay. We’ve got some great momentum going with the dissection, and the exposure is perfect. If we stop now, we’re going to lose our momentum and our exposure. I’m sure of it. That’s a good teaching point for you, Luis: If you’ve got momentum going during an operation, try not to lose it. Besides, do you know what surgeons say about asking permission to do something?”
    “No, what?”
    “‘It’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.’ Remember that.”
    “‘Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.’ Roger that.”
    Sweep, sweep, sweep. I keep teasing the tumor away from the healthy tissue with gentle sweeps of the sucker. It’s coming off perfectly now, as easily as peeling a self-adhesive postage stamp or sticker off the backing once you’ve worked off that stubborn first corner. Just a little bit more, and I’ll have the tumor out before Larry’s even back in the room.
    “It’s tough sometimes being so good,” I say, sighing. Luis guffaws, jerking the camera. The image on the video monitor momentarily bounces up and down. The motion reveals a hint of blue at the bottom of the screen.
    “Hey,” I say, my excitement growing, “is that the IVC? Luis, zoom in on that blue patch.” He does. It’s the IVC. It’s perfect, exactly the location where I want to be.
    I rule.
    “Yep. That’s the IVC all right. Excellent. So if we push on it up in this direction…” I push upward on the tumor with the sucker. In response, the tumor slides smoothly away from the IVC. “We should be home free.”
    I push again in the same direction, and then again, and then again. Each push