Dr Escargot and I met last week to follow up my recent
surgery. I thought it was all about me, but judging by the look on his face, I
think he likes to admire his handy-work. He smiled and nodded, and the glint in
his eye said, ‘Job well done, everybody.’
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| Dr Escargot (Left), Me (Right) |
He’s a lovely man and I trust him completely. While I slept
(with the aid of Bellaruth and my anesthesiologist) he has twice looked around
and cleaned me up. I couldn’t imagine not trusting my surgeon. It has occurred
to me many times that this man, literally, has my life in his hands. But what I
didn’t realize until last week was that his hands are so teeny!
After my examination, he asked if there was anything else
I’d like to talk about. Since he asked, I mentioned a purple finger that had recently
been concerning me. My middle finger had been quite swollen, and a startling
shade of purple. It had since returned (almost) to normal, but I’d thought I’d
bring it up. He wasn’t terribly
worried. But he did say that he had a purple finger as well.
‘Look,’ he said, putting his hand beside mine. My first
reaction was to say, ‘My God you’re hands are small!’ though I knew that wasn’t
the point of this show ‘n tell. But I was less concerned with his tiny purple fingernail
than I was with the fact that he had the hands of an eight-year-old girl. They
were certainly smaller than mine. ‘How did that happen,’ I asked. And what I
really meant was, ‘How did a grown man get hands that little?’
After he left the room I discussed this with Jim. He said
that Escargot was blessed with delicate digits, so he could maneuver his way
around veins and arteries. But what else could he do? I doubt he could
lift a hammer, hand brakes on bicycles would be a challenge, and he may or may
not be able to grip the steering wheel of a car. A pencil would be fine.
His hands were also very soft, and looked a little squishy. Characters
from Sesame Street popped in my head, and I pictured the muppets and their
soft, clumsy mitts. Bert, I think,
had the smallest hands of all – which explained why it was Ernie who got to
hold the rubber ducky.
But Jim was right. The tiny hands are an advantage for a
surgeon in need of fine motor skills. And it made him more cuddly, and less
intimidating. And I do have to hand it to him. He did one heck of a good job.
