At best it was to be a risky operation. Over the past nine weeks Teddy had spent more time in hospital than out. The problem had started with a headache that just wouldn’t go away. Concentrated behind his left eye, no amount of aspirin or sleep could suffocate the terrific pain. Teddy’s family doctor was stumped: no prior history of migraines or high blood pressure. Not even a recent knock on the head could shoulder the blame. Lacking an alternative, Teddy decided to call a specialist.

Dr. Grenville Young agreed to meet with Teddy and run some tests. They came at him with a barrage of switches and dials, pokes and prods but the textbooks weren’t satisfied. It wasn’t until a couple of x-rays later that a cloud, about the size of a robin’s egg, showed up. Squeezed tightly between Teddy’s eye and brain, Dr. Young suspected a tumor. And if that wasn’t enough to contend with, Teddy’s heart was also exceptionally frail. Dr. Young’s closest colleague, Dr. Jennifer Worthy, had performed a triple bypass operation not eight months earlier. Young was worried Teddy didn’t have have the kick to pull himself through another surgical marathon.

Feeling a bit uncertain, Young decided to bounce some ideas off Dr. Worthy. Not only because she carried Teddy through the last time, but more importantly, because she had always been able to forward the best advice. The two doctors had known each other for quite some time. Both studied at the same university and, as luck would have it, were placed in the same hospital to practise. So in this case, as in dozens before, Young explained the situation to Worthy after they had lunched.

‘Jennifer,’ Dr. Young said, pushing his plate away from him.

‘Listen. I’ve got this patient…’

Teddy was staying on the lower floor. He had a private room complete with television, radio and telephone. It was a comfortable, homey kind of place, away from the coughs and complaints of other patients. Teddy’s bed sheets matched the wallpaper nicely. Both shared the same brownish color with tiny bluish birds imprisoned by a pattern of red lines. It disappointed Dr. Young that Teddy had relatively few visitors. In fact, he didn’t have any. Teddy had no family to speak of either. But he insisted that was of little consequence.

Teddy said he had decided a long time ago to transfer his desire for companionship from humans to animals. Teddy kidded that if he ever got married, the ceremony would be held at the Metro Zoo. He enjoyed the security of having friends who never judged and who did not suffer from any of the trite emotions that afflict the human world: jealousy, hatred and revenge would never plague Teddy again.

Dr. Worthy sat for some time not saying anything. Cautiously sipping a hot chocolate still too warm to drink, she began: ‘The heart problem aside, does Teddy know he’ll lose his eye whether the tumor is benign or not?’

‘No, I haven’t told him that. But he does know the extra risks involved and is anxious to get the whole thing over with.’

‘Okay, well let’s get him prepped. But I remember how soft his heart is. We’ll have to be quick.’

The operation was set for 4 p.m. Both doctors agreed they should be finished by the time the Chief of Staff- who as it happened was Dr. Young’s father- came on at 5:30. He would make his rounds when he arrived and expected the doctors to be finished by then.

One thing shadowed Dr. Young: he had to tell Teddy he was going to lose half his sight. This, he thought, was the hardest part of medicine- the one chapter missing from every text. Cancer, contusions and cold sores are impersonal. Treatment is listed alphabetically, rationally in a clear, concise manner. If you cut yourself you get a Band-aid. Worry, despair and fear are different. They are phantoms able to elude even the best microscopes, machines and medicine. There is no set recipe for depression. Each case was unique, each case demanding a different kind of emotional expertise- expertise that cannot be lectured and then tested. These are the invisible tools of the tradesman called a doctor. Tools that can never be patented and carried in a black medical bag, nevertheless they must always be there.

This was the silent tempest blowing up inside Dr. Young as he closed Teddy’s door behind him. Teddy was asleep when Young came in. Moving across the green linoleum, Young saw Teddy awaken. He took the news quietly, attentively, not missing a single syllable. Teddy didn’t push Dr. Young for any false hope or second opinions. Nor did he need any of the constant reassuring many people crave. Dr. Young was glad of that. It enabled him to explain everything at right angles. ‘Yes, you will lose the eye. And if the tumor proves to be malignant, you might just be our house guest a little bit longer. Providing your heart will oblige us.’

Dr. Young met Worthy in scrub at 3:30. Young said his mother would pop by to watch the operation from the gallery. She enjoyed watching her son work. It made her proud. She often felt there was too much pressure on him to satisfy his father’s expectations, so she would look in on her son and offer support.

During scrub, Young once again emphasized the importance of speed to Worthy. She winked at him and said it would be child’s play. From the wash basin Dr. Young could see Teddy in the operating room. For the first time he noticed how short Teddy was. He imagined their positions being reversed. The thought stuck in his throat as he entered O.R.

At the top of the clock Dr. Young smiled, looked Worthy in the eyes, and said ‘scalpel’. Young felt Teddy’s skin give way under the pressure of the slick instrument. Young’s eyes traced at least a dozen other previous incisions in and around Teddy’s chest. He could see where Dr. Worthy had opened him up the last time. Hair was still missing from Teddy’s burly chest, where he’d been shaved. Dr. Worthy also saw the marks and said Teddy had been through a lot. ‘Yeah, now let’s make sure it was all worth it,’ Young said.

Instinctively, Worthy retracted and pinned the flesh as Young cut. Removing the eye was tricky. Both doctors decided to lift it out intact so one of their other patients could use it. Young was glad to see it melt away from the socket easily. Cupping the priceless little organ, he placed it into a jar filled with a special solution.

Dr. Young could hear his mother in the gallery above. Mrs. Young knew how important this operation was to her son. She called down to ask how everything was going. Without lifting his eyes Young said, ‘No problems yet, but how are we for time?’

‘You’ve still got about 30 minutes until your father arrives.’

Worthy had noticed that Young worked best under pressure. During the past two years she had assisted on every one of his major operations. And on each one he had not only performed brilliantly but improved with each.

When Dr. Young finally located the grey nodule he sliced off a sliver for the lab. While he prepared the tumor for removal, Dr. Worthy examined the specimen to determine whether it was malignant or not. He returned to the O.R. with good news. Young felt relieved but still had Teddy’s heart to contend with. It was weakening.

Adroitly manipulating the surrounding tissue, Young slipped the scalpel inside to dislodge the tumor. Using a pair of tweezers he lifted the ashen piece of matter out of Teddy and put it into a stainless pan. Dr. Worthy immediately started the internal sutures. The tiny crescent-shaped needle moved easily in and out of the ruptured tissue. Young told Worthy to switch to nylon thread for the surface incision. It would be taken out in about a week’s time when Teddy would be fitted for a glass eye. Mrs. Young called from upstairs that they only had about five minutes left to sew Teddy up. His heart would hold out, this was plain by the look on her son’s face. She also added, with a smile, that the two doctors could very well find themselves in next month’s medical journal.

With only three stitches remaining, a sigh escaped from Dr. Worthy. Simultaneously, a door opened upstairs. They heard Mrs. Young greet her husband and explain the operation below.

Cutting and tying the last thread, both doctors turned and congratulated each other.

Dr. Worthy took Teddy back to his room. Placing a light kiss on his forehead she laid him down. Both doctors were cleaning their instruments when Dr. Young’s father descended the stairs.  Saying hello to them and then enquiring about the operation, he finished by saying he’d brought a present.

Young’s and Worthy’s eyes widened as Dr. Young reached into his black medical bag. Producing a stethoscope, he said, ‘It isn’t the newest, I used it in training. But now you and Jennifer will at least have one. Now the two of you run upstairs and wash up- It’s already past 5:30.’

All three turned as the call ‘dinner’s ready’ came from the kitchen above.

Originally published in White Wall Review 9 (1985)