…page 47…
You carefully reattach the left subclavian artery. The stitches hold. “Well done, Doctor!” says your comely nurse anesthetist. After chuckling quietly to yourself and admiring your own dexterity, you suddenly notice the surgical field filling with crimson blood.

If you panic and flail your arms helplessly, turn to page 13
If you think the blood looks more “carmine,” turn to page 67
If you blame the nurse anesthetist, turn to page 82

…page 52…
“I’m sorry,” you tell Mr. Patterson. “It appears that we weren’t able to remove all of the tumor.” You pause to allow the gravity of this statement sink into your patient’s thick skull.  Several heartbeats later, Mr. Patterson looks up to you for guidance. “What should I tell my family?” he asks.

If you tell him “some things are better left unsaid,” turn to page 91
If you stare at him unflinchingly, turn to page 84
If you offer Mr. Patterson a highball of scotch from the minibar hidden behind your diploma, turn to page 101

…page 71…
“It’s too late!” cries the anesthesiologist. “He’s dead. We’ve done all we can do.” You look at the flat-lining heart monitor and assess your options.

If you examine your fumbling hands and wonder whether insulting that Gypsy fortune teller was a bad idea, turn to page 62
If you surreptitiously remove the patient’s wedding ring, turn to page 79
If you repeatedly slam your fists into the open chest cavity, shouting “SURGEON SMASH!”, turn to page 15