The next morning, two hours before the surgery, Dorothy and the team members once again confirmed the surgical plan to ensure everything was in order.
Before putting on the surgical gown and entering the operating room, Dorothy noticed a new assistant, even though she was wearing a mask, she could still tell from her eyes and eyebrows that she was nervous.
“First time having surgery?”
The new assistant paused for a moment, nodded, “It’s the first time.”
“Don’t worry, everyone has a first time.”
“Thank you, Dr. Acosta,” the new assistant nodded to her and quickly went downstairs to prepare the anesthesia drugs needed by the anesthetist.
After the assistant doctor and Dr. Poole had prepared the tools needed for the surgery, they were both waiting for Dorothy to speak.
Dorothy walked up to the operating table and used a marker pen to outline the tumor area on Mrs. Mosley’s bald head.
The new assistant handed the required anesthetic to the anesthetist. The anesthetist took it and started adjusting the dosage according to the patient’s height and weight.
Dorothy glanced up and swept past the anesthetist’s potion.
The new assistant accidentally met Dorothy’s gaze and felt nervous subconsciously.
When the anesthetist was about to inject the patient with medication, Dorothy spoke up, “Wait.”
Dr. Poole looked at her, “What’s wrong?”
The eyes of others were also on her.
The new assistant clenched his sleeves tightly, not daring to breathe a word at the moment.
Dorothy asked the anesthetist to give her the medication. She took it in her hand and looked at it, “Mrs. Mosley is allergic to propofol, why is she being given propofol?”
The anesthetist paused, “Isn’t it fentanyl?”
He took the potion back in his hand to inspect it, and then looked at the potion bottle he had just taken, “It’s fentanyl, right?”
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