A middle-aged male surgeon reveals his true priorities in this 1-2 minute dramatic monologue addressing medical staff.
SURGERY
INT: A PRIVATE ROOM IN A HOSPITAL.
Dr. Ross, a surgeon, is in a room full of staff and medical interns. The atmosphere is grim.
ROSS
Well, everyone, there you have it. Nurse Sandy notified me twenty minutes ago that Tanya Harper is brain dead as of this morning, courtesy of a severe postoperative hemorrhage. Came in with malaise and bloody sputum at ten and was a vegetable by eleven.
(Looks at the floor. Voice shakes with fury.)
She was thirteen years old and she died after a tonsillectomy. There is only a 2.5% chance of that happening on the national average, and it happened under my watch. To a child. And, I'm sorry, slip of the tongue, but she's not actually dead, is she. No. Her parents will have to sign off for that to happen. But not before they're swarmed with television crews and polarizing political candidates who are trying to milk this for everything its worth.
(Glares around the room.)
How can I say this so that you'll get it through your heads? This is unacceptable. There is no excuse for something like this happening to a little girl. Not once. People come here to get better, not worse, and there is a big difference between failing to save a life and cutting it short like a butcher.
You do realize that the NHS includes perioperative, intraoperative and postoperative deaths when it posts its statistics, right? This will go on my record. I am a healer, and if you people can't keep a girl from bleeding out in the waiting room then I will find new staff. I won't have my career ruined over a bunch of incompetent troglodytes.
I mean, god�get it together, people. Remember why we're here.
