“Please, any spare surgeries,” it droned pitifully, as surgeon after surgeon passed by it with indifference. The da Vinci Robot looked haggard and disheveled. One of its tattered cardboard signs reads: NEED $2 MILLION TO FIND SHELTER IN AN O.R. “Please, any spare surgeries….”
“I used to do all kinds of surgeries: cardiac, colorectal, general, gynecologic, head and neck, thoracic, urologic…” The da Vinci Robot’s speech was falling on deaf ears. Other than prn gigs to make sandwiches or shovel snow, the homeless da Vinci robot was unemployed and covered in dust. Numerous layers of dust. “Now look at me. Begging for spare surgeries. Even a lap appy.”
Just then a hospital administrator walked by and looked at the pathetic da Vinci. “I have $2 million,” he said. “Besides, I really don’t want to spend it on health care providers and ancillary staff.”
“What do you wish me to do?” asked the rejuvenated da Vinci, dreaming of a transurethral resection of the prostate or a hemicolectomy, just like the good ole days.