When the Surgeon Fell Ill

Halfway through the procedure, I noticed something different. Dr. Harris paused for a moment, his face pale. He leaned slightly against the table.

“Doctor, are you alright?” one of the nurses asked softly.

He shook his head, barely audible: “My blood pressure… it’s dropping.”

The truth was, he’d been battling food poisoning from the night before, and now it was hitting him hard. In that instant, the atmosphere grew tense. Any other surgeon might have stepped away, handing the scalpel to a colleague. But Dr. Harris didn’t.

He looked at the patient, then back at us, and said firmly: “We can’t stop. Prepare an IV—use my leg. I’ll finish this.”