As a pre-medical student and a first-year medical student, I wore a cap and mask (you are not allowed into ORs without these). But I had to stand at least three feet away from everything blue when I watched surgeries.
If you've every seen an operating room, you know that most of the interesting stuff either is or is near something blue. So, I watched the screens and waited for the day when I could "scrub in." Scrubbing in is something third-year students learn to do at my school. I had heard there were prescribed methods of (literally) scrubbing each finger. Scrubbing in was apparently a ritual cleansing that would rival Deuteronomy. The caste of the scrubbed in wears gowns and gloves and are free to touch everything sterile (and nothing else).
|Brush with nail pick.|
During the first procedure, I watched and "mmhm'd" a lot. Dr. D. quizzed me about the origins of the ovarian vessels. My anatomy professor would be agonized to hear that I forgot that the left ovarian vein (not the right, just the left) empties into the left renal vein. DARN IT!
The experience was a mixture of cool and weird, like many first-things in my budding medical career. It was cool to be helping in a surgery; cool to be advancing; and cool to be "driving" the image on the laparoscopy screens. It was weird to be pivoting a camera on a stick in someone's abdominal wall.
However, since that action isn't morally wrong, I have no problem with getting over the weirdness and dwelling on the coolness of taking another step toward being a surgeon.