Womens Theatre

We take modern surgery for granted. Anaesthetists safely render us unconscious, surgeons make deft incisions, cauterise, snip, scrape, biopsy, repair then we wake without remembering a thing. A miracle of modern medicine.

Not a miracle of course but the result of many highly qualified individuals coming together, an array of pharmaceuticals, specialized equipment and instruments

I often work in an operating theatre prepping women for surgery, minor, major or life-saving specific to their female sex.

In this theatre, babies are born by caesarean, haemorrhaging is stopped, prolapsing organs replaced, cancers removed, contraceptive devices placed, pregnancies ended, tiny fragments of tissue gently removed after miscarriage

Our job in admissions is to make women feel safe, respected and cared for, give them our full attention, instill confidence.

We see women across the spectrum

Elderly, Girls with mature bodies, Indigenous, Neurodivergent, (aspergers, autism, dyspraxia) Disabled physically or intellectually, With mental illness, With history of sexual abuse and resulting PTSD, With gender dysphoria, Refugees, Non – English Speaking.

All humans, all worthy of dignity, respect and equal healthcare. Negative stereotyping is deadly. Nurses know this. We don’t assume anything.

Quiet hijab wearing woman might be confident, articulate, questioning everything

Exquisitely dressed woman with the frosty demeanour and clipped communication style may be on the verge of a panic attack, just holding it all together

The woman with english as second language, relaxed in our presence, reveals a significant health issue, till now untold. Surgery is delayed.

Vague , delightful elderly woman may not understand exactly what’s about to happen, surgery can’t go ahead without appropriate consent

The next elderly woman spirited, spritely, sharp as a tack, gives accurate answers and cheek!

Shouty angry woman might just be terrified, missing her usual self medicating drugs, anger turning to tears

Woman clasping emotional support teddy, own pillow , headphones, eye mask and fidget spinner is autistic with sensory issues.

We accomodate, we manage, advocate, gate-keep, check lists, mitigate risk, tend fragile mental health, keep everyone safe. Nothing surprises us, humans are complex

Questions, questions, so many questions

Why are you here? What surgery are you expecting ? When did you last eat? Did you take any drugs today? Do you need any drugs? Any jewellery on your body, any sneaky piercings?

Some women are scared, facing a lengthy surgery for cancer, pre-chemotherapy.

Some are having minor surgery, seem glad of the anaesthetic escape, from the relentless parenting of small children

Some mortified, hating the need for surgery in their most intimate parts

Some barely conscious, rushed through from emergency, actively bleeding, blood drip, drip, dripping into a vein

We swoop, urgency, speed, focus, No words needed

Many heartbroken having miscarried a pregnancy, still bleeding, need a curette

Some having an abortion, feel shame , embarrassed, many are not, aware of their right to reproductive autonomy, no matter the opinion of others.

She’s been raped, maybe a child herself, abused by a family member, her life a train wreck, she’s vulnerable, she is septic, she is bleeding, at risk of dying if the pregnancy implanted in her fallopian tube ruptures.

She is beyond heartbroken, devastated, carrying a baby with abnormalities who won’t survive, has made the brave decision to end the pregnancy

Can you even begin to put yourself in her shoes?

No matter your feelings, thoughts, opinions, this decision is never taken lightly, is frankly no one else’s business, should not be up for public debate , certainly not by old white male politicians of the patriarchy. Photos of the Supreme Court judges in the USA abhorrent, make my blood boil

The idea of a woman not being able to have this safe procedure in a hospital is unthinkable, medieval.

In my hospital, in this theatre if you need us, you’ll be in safe hands.

Hope we don’t see you anytime soon

Lindsey Crossan. Registered Nurse/Midwife