It’s just turned 8pm on Tuesday, and the room is about half full of the usual crowd. The smell of freshly brewed, specially sourced Peruvian coffee wafts over the circle of plastic chairs and their occupants, as gentle conversation about anaerobic thresholds is exchanged. The door shuts gently behind a lycra-clad latecomer - the breeze of its closing causing the ‘Anaesthetists Anonymous” banner on the adjacent wall to flutter gently. As the chair signals the start of the meeting, a young man (though not as young as he would like to still think) stands up to speak first.
“My name is Tom, and I don’t like muscle relaxants”
A soft murmur ripples around the group. A handful of heads nod sympathetically, whilst others turn to their neighbour, eyebrows dancing. Anaesthetists are well known for their particularities of practice, but this was still a surprising revelation. That’s a whole third of the sacred triad!
“I just think reversing them is a whole pile of…”
“My name is Tom, and I don’t like muscle relaxants”
A soft murmur ripples around the group. A handful of heads nod sympathetically, whilst others turn to their neighbour, eyebrows dancing. Anaesthetists are well known for their particularities of practice, but this was still a surprising revelation. That’s a whole third of the sacred triad!
“I just think reversing them is a whole pile of…”
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