Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l'air de l'O.R.

The linoleum floors of the hospital corridor are polished with some lemon and pine concoction. As I approach the cul-de-sac of operating rooms, this clean scent gives way to that generic sterile smell that all hospitals have. The hustle and bustle of stretchers and food carts and medical supplies rumbling through the hallway fades upon entering the OR suite.

Voices in the OR mingle - some comforting the patient, others giving instructions for the room setup. Soft clinking tickles the din as the scrub nurse organizes the sterile instruments on her table. Iodine cuts through the air as the circulating nurse sterilizes the surgical site. Ruffles ensue as the patient is covered with layers and layers of surgical drapes. The heart monitor provides a metronome beat with its steady electronic beep.

At last, the surgeon announces the start of the procedure with a simple: "Knife." The blade cuts the skin without effort - it seems there should be a sound with this action, but there is none. As soon as the incision is made, the surgeons dig deeper with an electric cauterizer, searing away the underlying superficial fat - snap crackle pop! Gray wisps of smoke waft from the body cavity and the smell of fried gristle permeates the room. Not altogether unpleasant, but not exactly hunger-inducing, either. The surgeon calls for the rib cutter - it opens up the chest wall with a wet crunch.

For the duration of the operation, all that is heard is the beeping of the heart monitor, bits of chatter, and the occasional clang! of an instrument being dropped onto the floor. And perhaps some med student snoring. (If a med student keels over in the OR and nobody's paying attention, does it make a sound?)

When the work is done, the sounds seem to happen in reverse - ruffles of drapes being taken away, instruments clinking as they're put away for another day, nurses counting sponges, the hisssss of oxygen flowing into the breather mask, the anesthesiologist pleading with the patient to "Wake up!!!" The patient is moved onto a stretcher with a schrumpf of sheets covering a heavy body, then the stretcher rolls and creaks away. The cleaning crew enters to end the dance, their wet mops slapping the floor wiping away the blood and guts.

Their role complete, the crew files out of the room, snapping off the lights, the room ready for the next dance.