As a junior intern at the Vancouver General Hospital in 1957 my rotation in surgery consisted of assisting the surgeons while operating, and attending the patients on the surgical ward. Actually, no matter how well you did in medical school, as a junior intern there, you were the lowest of the low. I spent hours at that time with thread practising tying surgical knots, one handed and two handed knots on the bedpost of our bedroom apartment so I could keep up with the surgeon. They were impatient if we couldn't tie swiftly and neatly snip. My new bride went to sleep as I tied and snipped at the bedpost over and over again.
I was called in the evening to assist a surgeon who was doing a gall bladder. He was a surgeon who was not on active staff at that hospital so was forced to do his routine surgery at odd hours and possibly less convenient. Anyway I was ready. He was chatty and cheerful throughout the procedure and in those days gall bladder surgery was done, by most, through a mighty incision, so there was ample room for the junior intern to display his skills at tie and snip during the closure. As I was doing so well as we were closing the incision he complemented me on my assistance and inquired about my aspirations. I told him I was a junior intern and hadn't decided yet. He became abruptly cross, his demeanor changed and he said, "I don't work with only junior interns. I need a senior intern to help me close the rest of the incision"
We sat by the surgical table for fifteen minutes while the senior intern on call got out of bed and assisted him for the last few minutes of the closure.
A pointless point was made. The occasional surgeon, surgical time sloughed off to the night by hospital booking and only provided for by a junior intern. A Rodney Dangerfield moment for him. All my practise on the bedpost and new bride underwhelmed. Renewed lessons on status of who you are, who he was, and twisted reality. An anesthetized patient no longer a part of things.
Now myself , having a practice of medicine for fifty years from that time, a well deserved humility fueling self observation began then. Humble Pie provides all the continuing necessary calories needed for us surgical beings.
I was called in the evening to assist a surgeon who was doing a gall bladder. He was a surgeon who was not on active staff at that hospital so was forced to do his routine surgery at odd hours and possibly less convenient. Anyway I was ready. He was chatty and cheerful throughout the procedure and in those days gall bladder surgery was done, by most, through a mighty incision, so there was ample room for the junior intern to display his skills at tie and snip during the closure. As I was doing so well as we were closing the incision he complemented me on my assistance and inquired about my aspirations. I told him I was a junior intern and hadn't decided yet. He became abruptly cross, his demeanor changed and he said, "I don't work with only junior interns. I need a senior intern to help me close the rest of the incision"
We sat by the surgical table for fifteen minutes while the senior intern on call got out of bed and assisted him for the last few minutes of the closure.
A pointless point was made. The occasional surgeon, surgical time sloughed off to the night by hospital booking and only provided for by a junior intern. A Rodney Dangerfield moment for him. All my practise on the bedpost and new bride underwhelmed. Renewed lessons on status of who you are, who he was, and twisted reality. An anesthetized patient no longer a part of things.
Now myself , having a practice of medicine for fifty years from that time, a well deserved humility fueling self observation began then. Humble Pie provides all the continuing necessary calories needed for us surgical beings.
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