“The worst part about this operation,” Dr. Barsch told Jean as they scrubbed in the operating room lavatory, “is that one never knows. The surrounding tissues may look fine and normal, but cancer cells can break away and get into the blood stream and be carried far from the spot of operation.”
“It’s a grisly business,” Dr. Daley affirmed.
Dr. Barsch sighed and turned his attention to his scrubbing. Dr. Daley said, “If Mr. Mills had come in for regular checkups, this might not have happened. Someday people will learn.”
Eileen Gordon came in briskly and rolled up her sleeves to scrub. Dr. Barsch looked at her with fond exasperation.
“So you’re going to assist me,” he commented dryly.
She looked up at him, puzzled. “Yes, sir,” she answered. “This is too important to let anyone else handle.”
The doctor chuckled a little. “Of course you know that Dr. Benson will be on hand, too. Dr. Daley will stand by while I work, and Dr. Benson will do the probing when we make the incision. That boy has the makings of a fine surgeon,” he added, almost to himself.
Eileen reddened. “I didn’t know, sir. Honest.”
Dr. Barsch turned from the sink. “I won’t have it!” he bellowed. “I simply won’t have it! I get a girl trained and some young nincompoop rushes her off to the altar! How many supervisors do you think I can train in the space of two years?”