Brain Surgery & The Neurosurgeon
Brain surgery & “The Neurosurgeon”
A Travis Robertson novel about brain surgery
Travis was trained to carry out brain surgery. His psychological novel, The Neurosurgeon, accurately portrays the life of Dr. Ira Stone, a surgeon caught up in the emotional conflict of family versus patient. His attempts to save the lives of patients suffering from cancer, trauma, and strokes create havoc with his life outside the operating room. With his parents, his wife, and his mistress.
An informative example of delicate brain surgery is an aneurysm operation, where the exposure of the “balloon” in the artery is carried out via the surgical microscope:
Brain surgery in progress
This requires much obsessive attention to detail by the entire team of surgeons, anesthesiologists, technicians, and nurses. The procedure proceeds step by step, or block by block while building a pyramid with a solid base, as it were. The peak of the pyramid is the exposure and clipping of the aneurysm, now a beautiful piece of moving artwork–if the aneurysm does not rupture. And if it does, the surgeon must remain calm and deliberate and continue with occlusion of the culprit even while blood flows.
Brain surgery: R Internal carotid artery dividing into anterior communicating artery (L) & middle cerebral artery (R) with aneurysm projecting up (back toward surgeon & microscope)
Brain surgery: same aneurysm occluded with two aneurysm clips
But during any surgical procedure we find human beings not only caring for a sleeping patient but also, at the same time, mastering their own emotions–or not. If the surgeon or the nurse, for example, have addicted brains with other agendas, then the neurosurgeon may find himself in an unwanted emotional trajectory. While it seems obvious that and brain surgery do not mix, a few surgeons with trusting patients may themselves suffer from their own disease of alcohol and drug dependency.
From The Neurosurgeon, microsurgery for an arteriovenous malformation (AVM) in the operating room:
“…Five hours later, half of the AVM had disappeared as the distended vessels collapsed, succumbing to our dogged onslaught. I sat back and stretched my arms.
‘How is she doing, Lois?’ I asked the anesthesiologist.
‘I’ve started a couple units of blood. We’re keeping up with the loss, but I’m sure the worst is yet to come.’
‘I agree.’ I glanced at Steffi. ‘Where did you get the fancy cap? It adds a lot of color to our day.’
‘Yes,’ chipped in Lois. ‘She promised t’ make one for me. They’re cool.’
‘Stop by my townhouse, Doctor Merriman. You can choose your own pattern. Uh…you, too, if you like, Doctor Stone.’
‘Sorry, honey,’ Janice hurried to say as she changed the suction filters. ‘The man’s married.’
Steffi didn’t respond. Instead, another rebellious curl of honey-blonde hair sprung away from under the cap.
‘I am going to rest a minute before we begin again.’ I opened and closed tired fingers.
‘Perhaps I can help, Doctor.’ Stephanie stepped down to the floor and moved a splash-bowl full of warm water. A faint twist of perfume hovered near the woman. She gently grabbed my gloved hands, lowering them into the soothing liquid. With a firmness that took me quite by surprise, the scrub nurse kneaded my fingers, massaging out the fatigue and tension, her pressure melting stiffness. A part of me wanted to resist, but something stopped me.
Within minutes Steffi released her healing grip, yet this simple act set in motion a life force quite foreign to me. I felt weird, new. As something kindled within, I was even a bit fearful…”
“…While Tellini irrigated and suctioned as ordered, Steffi continued to react one step ahead of me, her long and slender fingers delivering vital instruments, weapons then fired at the Medusa, clips and electrocautery aimed at arteries and veins bent on sucking life out of their host. The vessels fell to the assault, one after the other, but the bleeding would not cease.
‘Lois, have the FFP and platelets gone in?’ A note of desperation traveled with my query.
‘All in. We’re behind on the blood. The lab tests confirm disseminated intravascular coagulopathy. Can you hold up for a bit?’
‘I can’t. No matter what I do, the blood won’t clot. The hemorrhage just won’t stop! Got to get all the AVM out or she will bleed out on the table.’ I glanced up. Steffi was looking at me, her eyes filled with concern, or maybe something else…
The ping of the Doppler changed ominously. The rate picked up. Shock was setting in, and I felt as if I were losing control. What had I done wrong? I was a surgeon, dammit! Somewhere I had failed to dot an i or cross that t…”
(View another page in this website to see a thesaurus of 2,060 synonyms for “said,” “thought,” and “walked” in the author’s Mini-Thesaurus for psychological novels. Synonyms for these verbs were used extensively in the psychological novel, The Neurosurgeon.)
Source for The Neurosurgeon
“The Neurosurgeon” available now at
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