The last days of the year for anesthesiologists and resuscitators

The last days of the year, the bustling atmosphere of Tet has not yet come to the Department of Anesthesia and Resuscitation, 108 Central Military Hospital.

The operating room, with its surgical lights, steady machine sounds and familiar antiseptic smell, seems like another world , separate from the hustle and bustle of the crowded, bustling and busy streets.

Perhaps the end of the year is not the time for anesthesiologists to rest, they are still continuing their journey to protect life.

Here, life is measured by every heartbeat on the screen, every breath of the patient - the fragile moments between life and death that I, an anesthesiologist, have the duty to protect.

As the person who puts patients to sleep and also the person who wakes them up, I understand the trust that patients place in me. At the end of the year, that trust is even greater.

Everyone hopes the surgery is successful, the patient recovers quickly, and can return home soon and be healthy to welcome the new year with their family.

Every glance he gave me before falling asleep was like a silent prayer. And I, in those moments, was determined to focus all my mind on maintaining a steady rhythm of life, so that the patient could open his eyes again, safe and healthy.

The operating room is a place where there is no room for error, no matter the circumstances. While everyone else is busy shopping or wrapping up their New Year’s resolutions, my colleagues and I are keeping a close eye on every step of the surgery, every number on the screen, and every tiny change in the patient’s breathing.

We know that a correct decision, a timely adjustment can work miracles - not only for the patient, but also for the anxiously waiting family.

Sometimes, after hours of surgery, I would walk out of the operating room to find it was already dark. We would exchange tired but happy glances, and without words, we both knew that the sacrifice was worth it.

At the end of the year, the hospital has no fireworks or lively songs, but is full of touching stories.

Standing quietly looking through the small window, outside, the Tet lights were strung everywhere, but inside the operating room, the lights from the machines were still blinking, reminding me that the work had not stopped, there were still other patients waiting for us.

The last days of the year, the hospital did not have fireworks or lively songs, but it was full of touching stories. It was the relieved laughter of patients after successful surgeries, the grateful eyes of their families when the doctor said: "the surgery was successful". Just like that, we felt satisfied.

Perhaps the end of the year for anesthesiologists is not the time to rest, we are still continuing our journey to protect life.

Every successful surgery, every peaceful sleep guaranteed, is a gift that I give to my patients. And also a gift that we give to ourselves - the gift of joy, pride and meaning in our work.

As the operating room door closed behind me, I pulled my coat tighter and smiled. A new year has begun, and although the journey ahead is full of challenges, I still appreciate and love my job - caring for and protecting the health of the People.

Source: https://baodautu.vn/nhung-ngay-cuoi-nam-cua-y-bac-sy-gay-me-hoi-suc-d243373.html