Wingman
I have to give a little thank you to my mentor in anesthesiology for explaining to me what a wingman is and how it relates to anesthesia in the operating room.
When I started my anesthesiology rotation, one of the CRNA’s, whom I’ll call Marco, gave me an introduction to the surgery floor, even though it was his day off. Very nice of him. I wish that they’d been nice enough to do that when I started Ob-Gyne.
When he explained to me what a “wingman” is, he referred to “Top Gun” which I haven’t seen in ages, but may have to peek at sometime again.
A wingman is someone’s partner, when they fly a fighter plane together. The man in the front may be busy honing in on shooting at a target. But as most planes never even see the plane that shoots them down, this fighter needs a wingman who is just a little behind him and can see the big picture. If the pilot is doing something wrong, he can make suggestions, because he is just a little farther back and can see everything as a whole, while the front-guy is concentrating on a really hard task, to the exclusion of all else.
Marco mentioned that it was great that I was able to find that loose EKG module plug in the trauma room, but could I do it when there was a bleeding, dying trauma patient in the room, and everyone was telling me to do things, all at once?
He said anesthetists (CRNA) work as a team with the anesthesiologists (MDA). The MDA is the “wingman” who focuses on the patients vitals and other things, while the CRNA focuses on the intubation or other tasks that he is doing.
I think that’s a wonderful analogy.
He says that sometimes, when two people have been working together for so long, the CRNA doesn’t even need to look at the monitor behind him in order to know that the patient is okay. He needs only to look at the MDA’s face, as he checks the patient while the CRNA is intubating him.
He gave me another analogy.
He mentioned the movie “Stripes” (which I don’t think I’ve seen) which was about a group of black soldiers in the Army. They were doing target practice, and bragging about how well they can shoot. And the sergeant comes up and says, “Yeah, you’re really good now but CAN YOU DO IT AFTER THIS!!!!” And he yells really loudly in each guy’s ear.
Marco mentioned that it was different shooting at targets when you’re in combat, and bullets are whizzing past your head, and your buddy is dying next to you, and bombs are going off.
You have to be able to focus on a really fine task, to the exclusion of all hell breaking loose around you.
“And that is when you fall back on your training. You should not let your education interfere with your training.”
I asked him what was the difference between the two.
“Good question,” he said. He went on to explain that in the Air Force, a Captain once told him that he should always make sure that he got his degree, whereever he went. “That is your education, because everything is moving towards ‘having your degree.’”
But a sergeant, who is the grunt man, who trains soldiers, and has to be fit because he usually has to show them how to do something in order to train them, told Marco that his didactic learning is necessary. That is his “education.” But in the Army, you receive your training.
Training is what you fall back on, in times of stress. The almost instinctive ability to perform a task, even though all hell is breaking loose, because you’ve run through the scenario many times in your head, and you’ve practiced it over and over.
He said, that both education and training work together, so that when you are ready, you will find out that your hands cannot move fast enough for what you are thinking.
I hope that I can achieve that some day.
He says I will need both for my residency.
And that I will need to learn to multitask. And that is what the training is for. ACLS and PALS algorithms. . . is all training, so that when the shit hits the fan in an emergency, we all can “fall back on our training” to do our job and do it well.
Matt is my wingman.
