+A Cup of Milk Tea+

Completes the ten parter Coffee series \o\. Bit out of order, lol.



Coffee VII: Daily Cup

Most doctors, especially surgeons had their own sense of daily rituals, little practices to ensure success. Whether it was a lucky set of scrubs, the right shoes, the perfect anesthegiologist, the time that surgery is called, they all have their little quirks and practices. Germaine always prayed before his surgeries, Flores insisted on having the Beatle's compilation CD playing by the time she walked in. Bartlett always referred to the patient by their first name, he says it made them seem more intimate. Morriss even went so far as to refuse surgeries on days that he comes across an accident on the way to work- bad juju he claims.

After moving to England and taking up his teaching position, the need for surgeries were by far fewer and fewer in between. Except for the occasional consultation or invite to one of the larger hospitals in Manchester or London, Aleksander Ivanov stayed mainly in his office. He wore his doctor's coat when he was in the hospital but he had no need to scrub up with no surgeries to participate in. Coronary bypasses were not altogether common on a campus where the average age was between 19 to 25.But this was fine because Ivanov's goals had changed. In the past, his daily rituals, the reviewing of medical journals, the practice of slicing his morning croissant with a surgical scapel, all this was to hone and perfect the skills of his hands, to better the art of seperating flesh and muscle, vessels and veins.

Now, Ivanov's days started with the review of business reports and activities from Moscow, sales and progress of their "interests". Though he still used a scapel to slice and butter his bread, his morning readings now included both the Economist as well as the New England Medical, the pages flipped without his touching them as he practiced now his ability to use wind over using his hands.

And every morning, as he stirred two servings of cream, no sugar, into his coffee, he would sit back for a minute of meditation on a picture of his family.

"To our rise." He would toast in complete sincerity as perfectly sliced pieces of bread quivered from the breeze on his fine china.