Urgent section... no senior

Rushing down the hall. Fumbling the ties of my mask as I walk together with the obstetrician.

Water running, pink foam covering hands. Scrub, scrub, scrub. Repeatedly. Nails, palms, individual fingers, one at a time. Wrists, then down the arm. Rinse, spraying water down my greens. Water running off my elbows. I back into the room through swinging doors, arms held out, at 90 degrees like a robot, hands pointing to the ceiling.

Sterile hand towel rough on my hands. I scoop my arms into the blue gown. Hands deep into latex gloves held out for me, snapping gratifyingly around my arms. Tight springiness of my gloves reassuring, sterile gown stiff as I move. The curves of the body on the table become only an anatomic circle of skin in a blue sterile operating field. Bright lights spotlight the belly swollen with pregnancy.

Cautery in place. Suction ready. Heart pounding. Hand steady. Knife. Exhilarated. Bleary eyes fully cleared with the adrenaline of the cut.

Flash of custard yellow shiny fat globules as the skin parts, then bright red specs, spread and flood the incision. Deeper now, a sheen of fat particles on the surface of pooling red blood. Tiny fountain from an artery. Snapping of clamps. Cautery buzzing. Pungent smell of burning blood, tissue, smoke. Suction slurping. Snipping scissors slice through fascia. Knife again. Green fluid spurts. Cord floats out. Then pressure. I'm standing on a stool pressing all my weight down onto her belly while matted wet black hair emerges from below. Scrunkled, wrinkled face finally forced out. Body gray, covered with thick whitish-yellow paste. A girl. Pause. Breathing stops. Silence. Snap. Snap. Scissors snip. Slimy warm limbs held tightly in my hands, I turn and place her in the sterile white flannel the nurse is holding. No cry. Suction slurps. Heads crowd around the warmer. Hands flying. Then a gurgling cry, squirming baby. The room breaths again.

Blood spurts, flooding the uterus as the placenta slips out. Warm, pulsating. Clamps, sutures. Suction squealing as dark livery clots dangle off its tip. Ties. Cautery. Gauze. Gaping uterus closed, fascia comes together. Back up to the custard fat, no longer shiny. Krink krink krink as I staple the final edges together.

Only now does my heart slow, tearing off my gown, gloves sticky with dried blood snapped into the garbage. Blood and fluid all over my ankles and feet. Scattered bloody footprints bright on the floor.

Wading in the exhilaration of it all. Senses overloaded. Wow, that was cool.