21 Jump Street (Tom Hanson)

Gregg's Anatomy

October 1989

I stood beside Tom in a locker room of surgeons fresh out of medical school. We all wore light blue scrubs, and everyone was talking amongst themselves, excited to continue their medical training.

"You look good in scrubs," I heard behind me. After tying my tennis shoes, I turned to see Tom with a grin on his face.

"Maybe I should change occupations," I chuckled.

Tom and I were assigned something new. There's a surgeon at the Evergreen Hospital that has had multiple patients die on him since he began working there. We were there to investigate why.

We followed the pack of interns through the hospital where more doctors were waiting for them. These doctors were more advanced in their career, and they are called Residents. Above Residents, are Attendings. Attendings wear dark blue scrubs. Interns are the new doctors who just graduated medical school.

"Dr. McQuaid and Dr. Toboggan?" One of the Attendings asked.

"We are right here," Tom said as we pushed our way to the front.

The doctor cleared his throat and told the group, "these are interns from Metro Hospital. They will be training with us because this is a teaching hospital." Then he lowered his voice and said, "you two will be under Dr. Foreman's service. Any questions?"

We both vigorously shook our heads.

"Excellent. Get to work," he said and walked off.

I turned to Tom and asked, "who is Dr. Foreman?"

"Right here," I heard. I turned around to see another doctor in light blue scrubs, surrounded by a group of interns. We introduced ourselves, and he said, "great. You'll be making rounds. Let's go."

We trudged behind the group, and Tom whispered to me, "it's pretty quiet in here."

A couple of interns snapped their heads towards him and scolded, "never say that word in a hospital."

"Why?" Tom asked, oblivious to the stigma attached to it. It's bad luck to say that word in a hospital, because all hell will break loose.

Suddenly, in burst a man screaming on a gurney. The paramedics were efficiently describing the trauma, and the doctors began to frantically surround the man. When they moved, I could see blood coating their latex gloves.

"I think that's why," I said.

"Uh, Dr. Toboggan and Dr. McQuaid, hop on that case. Rest of you, rounds. Let's go." Dr. Foreman said.

We were pushed into a room alone with the screaming man, and Tom nearly gagged at all the blood. He hates the slight of blood, it makes him feel queasy.

"We have to take him to the O.R.," one of the doctors said. He turned to us amongst the panic and asked, "who are you guys?"

"We are Dr. Toboggan and McQuaid, sir," Tom said.

"Well, Toboggan and McQuaid, congratulations. You interns will see the inside of an O.R. Let's roll."

We followed the team up to the operating room, and copied their every move. We washed our hands vigorously, put on gloves, and were instantly put into the operating room. Everything was so sterile and clean, you could eat off the floor.

"That's the doctor we are investigating," Tom whispered to me and nodded toward him.

I leaned to one of the interns next to me and asked, "who is the surgeon?"

He whispered back, "that's Dr. Anderson. He just transferred from a hospital in Oregon."

We all gathered around as the patient was put under anesthesia and the nurses prepared the area for Dr. Anderson. He looked around at everyone and said, "all right. Let's begin. Scalpel."