Author's posts
From house calls to the OR: a surgeon’s journey and unexpected lessons
Clueless at the time, when I applied to medical school, I imagined myself one day making house calls, good ol’ Doc Schwab, paid in chickens and pies, smiles, and blackberry jam. There I’d be, delivering babies on kitchen tables, patching up…
From house calls to the OR: a surgeon’s journey and unexpected lessons
Clueless at the time, when I applied to medical school, I imagined myself one day making house calls, good ol’ Doc Schwab, paid in chickens and pies, smiles, and blackberry jam. There I’d be, delivering babies on kitchen tables, patching up…
The demise of doctor-owned medicine?
When I joined The Everett Clinic forty-two years ago, we were thirty-some physicians. The main campus consisted of what’s now called the Founders’ Building and a couple of parking lots. The building was industrial and off-putting, guiding p…
How a ruptured spleen saved a life
Of the many thousand operations I did in my surgical career, most were life-improving rather than life-saving. To me, life-saving implies immediate or imminent risk of death: gunshot wounds, stabbings, gastrointestinal bleeding or perforations, punctur…
Surgical decision-making: Navigating catastrophic scenarios
Let me describe what it’s like to operate in a potentially disastrous situation. Notwithstanding having one’s faculties and wits gathered and finely honed, being as in command of yourself as you can possibly be, it may test and demand every…
Navigating the gray area: a doctor’s perspective on treating a colleague
“Musta been the ham sandwich,” he said as he leaned onto the operating table and belched a couple of times. We were halfway through an operation, and Doug, my partner, didn’t look all that good. I’d been in practice for all of a…
Big Joe: living proof of a surgeon’s fallibility
When I think of Big Joe, I see his overalls and how he filled them. And how a couple of months after I operated on him, there was room for both of us in there. Big Joe: farmer, salt of the earth, tough, stoic. And now, bright orange. My initial recomme…
I didn’t know her name until it was over
I didn’t know her name until it was over, much too late. What I knew was she was thirteen and that on this winter day, someone in her family had been pulling her behind their car on a sled. No doubt laughing and looking in the rear-view mirror, t…
