basements typically had the same floor area as the house above, but buried threequarters underground. Rooms had narrow horizontal windows just beneath the ceiling that allowed just a little light to peep in whilst giving a limited view of the outside world. In winter, the snow piled up against the windows, dimming the light and casting a grey pallor over the basement rooms, making it pretty claustrophobic. In our basement there was only one entry and exit via a narrow set of stairs and I was petrified of being caught down there in a fire.
We spent that first week touring Target, Wal-Mart and various garage sales to source the very best budget furniture we could find. Before long we were watching our tiny TV on $5 lawn chairs and the day I would start as a liver transplant Fellow drew closer. Even though I was alwaysanxious before starting any new job, this time I was more nervous than I could ever remember. Would I be good enough? This was the big league.
You want me to start at what time?
I wanted to make a good impression on my first day on the job in Denver, so I arrived at 7 am. I was used to starting work around 7.30 in Australia, so I thought that showing up half an hour early would be a pretty safe bet and would let everyone know that I was keen. I nervously approached Dr Kamâs secretary and told her who I was and what I was there for. She didnât seem to know much about me, mainly I think because she didnât understand my very broad Australian accent. I repeated myself, this time in my best American drawl, and what had been lost in translation finally became clear. She informed methat everyone was in surgery, that I was late, and I should get down to the operating room â or OR â as soon as possible. They had already been transplanting for an hour. She went on to to tell me that the junior doctorsâ work day usually began somewhere in the vicinity of 5.30 am. Did I hear her correctly, 5.30 am? Wow, that just didnât seem right. My heart sank, maybe this job wouldnât be so enjoyable after all. I was ushered down to the OR to find Dr Tom Bak plugging a liver into a patient, accompanied by his favourite music â Canadian rock group Rush â playing from speakers mounted at the end of the operating table. After two years I would eventually become familiar with all the songs in their catalogue. Dr Bak did not look up from his work and without any ado told me to âscrub inâ. I had begun my job with no fanfare.
After my morning in the OR, I finally had time to sit down and talk with Dr Kam properly for the first time. On first meeting, he was abrupt, imposing and bore more than a passing resemblance to Marlon Brando (a picture of whom hangs behind his desk). What I quickly realised was that behind the gruff exterior there was a heart of gold and one of the kindest people I had ever met. Dr Kam was renowned for his superb surgical skills, and his blistering but side-splittingly funny remarks. âYous guys suckâ was a particular favourite that I like to borrow now and then when I playfully reprimand my junior staff. Operating with Dr Kam was just as daunting as it was with Professor Strong.He expected perfection and in transplant, this is not unreasonable. Dr Kam wanted every movement to be precise and done exactly as he liked it. When I operated with him, every time I moved, he would say the word âcarefulâ at least one hundred times. âI am being careful,â I often thought. Just not enough for his liking, I realised. I clearly improved over time and the âcarefulsâ became a little less frequent. It was my aim to get through a case with less than ten of them being said.
In America, everything that I knew about work was different, even the language. I misguidedly thought that we would all understand each other when it came to medical matters. It was all done in English, right? How wrong I was. Temperature was in Fahrenheit, many of the
We spent that first week touring Target, Wal-Mart and various garage sales to source the very best budget furniture we could find. Before long we were watching our tiny TV on $5 lawn chairs and the day I would start as a liver transplant Fellow drew closer. Even though I was alwaysanxious before starting any new job, this time I was more nervous than I could ever remember. Would I be good enough? This was the big league.
You want me to start at what time?
I wanted to make a good impression on my first day on the job in Denver, so I arrived at 7 am. I was used to starting work around 7.30 in Australia, so I thought that showing up half an hour early would be a pretty safe bet and would let everyone know that I was keen. I nervously approached Dr Kamâs secretary and told her who I was and what I was there for. She didnât seem to know much about me, mainly I think because she didnât understand my very broad Australian accent. I repeated myself, this time in my best American drawl, and what had been lost in translation finally became clear. She informed methat everyone was in surgery, that I was late, and I should get down to the operating room â or OR â as soon as possible. They had already been transplanting for an hour. She went on to to tell me that the junior doctorsâ work day usually began somewhere in the vicinity of 5.30 am. Did I hear her correctly, 5.30 am? Wow, that just didnât seem right. My heart sank, maybe this job wouldnât be so enjoyable after all. I was ushered down to the OR to find Dr Tom Bak plugging a liver into a patient, accompanied by his favourite music â Canadian rock group Rush â playing from speakers mounted at the end of the operating table. After two years I would eventually become familiar with all the songs in their catalogue. Dr Bak did not look up from his work and without any ado told me to âscrub inâ. I had begun my job with no fanfare.
After my morning in the OR, I finally had time to sit down and talk with Dr Kam properly for the first time. On first meeting, he was abrupt, imposing and bore more than a passing resemblance to Marlon Brando (a picture of whom hangs behind his desk). What I quickly realised was that behind the gruff exterior there was a heart of gold and one of the kindest people I had ever met. Dr Kam was renowned for his superb surgical skills, and his blistering but side-splittingly funny remarks. âYous guys suckâ was a particular favourite that I like to borrow now and then when I playfully reprimand my junior staff. Operating with Dr Kam was just as daunting as it was with Professor Strong.He expected perfection and in transplant, this is not unreasonable. Dr Kam wanted every movement to be precise and done exactly as he liked it. When I operated with him, every time I moved, he would say the word âcarefulâ at least one hundred times. âI am being careful,â I often thought. Just not enough for his liking, I realised. I clearly improved over time and the âcarefulsâ became a little less frequent. It was my aim to get through a case with less than ten of them being said.
In America, everything that I knew about work was different, even the language. I misguidedly thought that we would all understand each other when it came to medical matters. It was all done in English, right? How wrong I was. Temperature was in Fahrenheit, many of the
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