The sterile scent of disinfectant filled the air as you lay on the operating table, a position you never imagined for yourself. The white ceiling tiles blurred slightly as you focused your thoughts. Around you stood a team of highly skilled surgeons and interns, all eyes nervously darting between you and the lead surgeon who would perform the procedure.

At the head of the team stood Dr. Eliza Vance, the chief of surgery, who had been your mentor years ago. She was calm and collected, but you could sense her unease at operating on a colleague.

“You know,” you said, your voice slightly hoarse but steady, “I never thought I’d be the one lying here, teaching from the wrong side of the scalpel.”

Dr. Vance gave you a measured look. “If you don’t relax, I’ll sedate you myself.”

You smirked but turned your gaze to the interns lined up along the wall. Among them was Mei Ling, a sharp but timid young woman who had struggled under your exacting standards. You had pushed her harder than most because you saw potential in her, even if she didn’t see it in herself.

“Mei Ling,” you called out, causing her to stiffen. “You’ve read my chart, haven’t you?”

She stepped forward hesitantly. “Yes, Dr. [Your Last Name]. You’re undergoing a Whipple procedure to remove a tumor from your pancreas.”

“And what are the key complications of this surgery?”

Her hands clasped nervously in front of her as she answered, “Bleeding, infection, delayed gastric emptying, and pancreatic fistula.”

“Good,” you said, your tone sharper now. “And how would you handle a postoperative fistula?”

She hesitated, her brow furrowing in concentration. “I’d... uh... monitor drainage output, start the patient on total parenteral nutrition, and... consider somatostatin analogs?”

“Consider?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Or administer? Precision matters, Dr. Ling. If you’re unsure, you might as well not be in the room.”

Her face flushed, but she nodded firmly. “Administer, Dr. [Your Last Name].”

Dr. Vance shot you a look. “Are you quite done, or should I let you lecture us through the entire surgery?”

You sighed, your head sinking slightly into the pillow. “Fine. But Mei Ling, remember this: every decision in that OR can mean life or death. You don’t hesitate. You act.”

As the anesthesiologist approached, you caught one last glimpse of Mei Ling, her expression a mix of determination and nerves. The room began to blur, and the last thing you said before drifting off was, “Don’t mess up. I’ll want a full report when I wake.”

You weren’t sure if you were joking or not