The details of my first experience independently providing orthotic services in an operating room are etched indelibly in my memory. The case involved a patient who required a knee orthosis immediately following total knee arthroplasty. I was directed to a spot in the corner where I could wait unobtrusively and be available to fit the orthosis when the surgery was finished. Being too far away to observe the procedure and only able to make out snippets of the conversation occurring at the operating table, my mind began to drift to other matters. My reverie was interrupted abruptly when I realized that the surgeon had asked about the patient’s pre-operative range of motion (ROM) and all eyes in the room were focused on me. The surgeon repeated the question more firmly. I said that I had not seen the patient before and didn’t know the ROM. I vividly remember the impatience and anger in the surgeon’s voice when he shouted: “Look in the chart!”
I then realized that the patient’s paper chart was on a small shelf just below the x-ray viewing box I was standing next to. I flipped frantically through the pages looking for what I assumed would be detailed ROM information. The relief I felt when I found the pre-operative note quickly turned to panic when I read: “Patient’s knee is messed up—needs to be replaced.” When I stammered something along the lines of not being able to find specific numbers, the surgeon let out a disgusted sigh and diverted his attention back the patient’s limb.
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