Operating rooms are the ultimate paradox. At the center is this wet bag of humanness. Manifested by my just having sneezed, humans are leaky, impossibly complex, sloppily put together, and hard to predict. Add to this, the reason we end up on operating tables is that we are malfunctioning in some important way. The malfunction can raise the level of uncertainty by a little or by multiple powers of ten.
In contrast, the procedure, or as we say, the operation, and the surgical team, are as tightly controlled, trained and rehearsed, regulated and disciplined, as just about any other human endeavor. Each member of the team has a tightly bounded role and set of responsibilities that are as rigorously choreographed as a Beyoncé halftime show.
Paradox emerges in the intersection of operational rigor applied to predictable randomness. Nothing is ultimately knowable at the start, but the approach applies the highest level of probability to the best probable outcome.
Trust the data. Trust the practice.
Here’s where our cognitive preferences show up. Our Sequential process allows us to lean into data, rule and process, categories and boundaries. Our essential Observer allows us to focus on function and necessity. All of us can do those things. When we have a sequential preference and an essential observer preference, it will take less attention and energy for us to do those things.
One of my clients, an anesthesiologist, has a dominantly sequential preference and the most dominantly essential observer preference we've ever recorded. She is the anesthesiologist they seek out for exceptionally long surgeries. Her combined highly active Sequential process and extremely selective essential Observer allow her to focus on the patient's vital signs for exceptionally long periods without losing attention and energy.
If you've ever spent time in an operating room as a conscious observer, they can be exceptionally distracting in spite of the rigor of the procedure. The participants' interactions: people moving in and out, bright lights, blinking lights, machine sounds, alert sounds, spoken directions, intense discussions, all can catch our attention and energy..
The distinctiveness of our anesthesiologist's cognitive preferences allows her to be distracted by nothing. Her awareness leaks almost no attention and energy away from her primary task. Leaks of attention and energy deplete our stamina for tightly focused awareness. By contrast, I can apply tightly focused awareness, but my attention span is measured in minutes rather than hours.
Here's an exercise you can try. Light a candle. Apply a sequential process to recording what you observe about the lit candle. Start ten feet away. Start a stopwatch and record everything you observe about the candle. Note the time when you have no fresh observations. Move to three feet away. Start a stopwatch and record what shows up to your observation from this distance. Note the time when you have no fresh observations. Move to one foot away. Again, start a stopwatch and observe what new shows up.
While doing this highly focused activity, what caught your attention outside of the zone of the task?
Try it with a friend. Try not to be competitive. The goal is to be aware of, and embrace the difference.
Next week: another pair