Marlot Kuiper

122 Connective Routines Intermezzo: Getting responsibilities “Can you give me an ampule Lidocaine, 10 mg?” the anaesthesiologist in training asks me. When he sees my questioned face he adds with a sigh: “In the left upper drawer.” Questions like these were no exception when I was in the operating theatre doing fieldwork. The answer to this question was rather simple to me; as I was a non- clinician observer, providing clinicians with medicine was beyond the scope of what I could do. Naturally, it was not like I physically couldn’t give it to him, but ethically, I clearly just couldn’t. I decided to quickly explain why I couldn’t give the ampule of Lidocaine, but the anaesthesiologist seemed more frustrated by the fact that he now had to arrange the medicine another way, than that showed understanding for my position. Clearly, the setting in which I conducted the study raised some ethical concerns, and mostly, they presented themselves very sudden. The answers to such questions; deciding what (not) to do, were not always that self-evident as with not proving medicine. Later on, it got to me that during the process of data collection, I got responsibilities. It wasn’t a matter of taking responsibilities, but rather, they appeared as inescapable. During a surgery, I am sitting on a stool in the corner of the operating theatre, flipping through my notebook. As the time-out has been done, and the team is operating, I have some time to read through my notes. The surgeon and the surgeon in training, assisted by the scrub nurse, are operating the patient. A second nurse is handing the equipment. At that point, I don’t actively realize that they are all wearing sterile coats and gloves. Then, the phone in the theatre rings. Nobody picks up the phone. The nurse anaesthetist gives me an angry glare. I only get it till the surgeon says “‘Are you still planning to pick up the phone or what?!’ Embarrassed and a bit hesitant I pick up the phone. Luckily I remember which theatre I’m in. “OR7, Marlot speaking” I hear myself say. The person on the other side asks me if I can pass through that recovery is ready for our patient. “Thanks, will do!” I hear myself proactively say before hanging up the phone. In this situation, I was struggling with my role as researcher, and the responsibilities other actors in the setting imposed on me. The adagio in the operating theatre very much is: “make yourself useful.” And in this particular situation, I could live up to that expectation by picking up the phone. As I was,