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I sat in front of the monitor, watching intently.
The angiogram of a child we were operating on next was playing. In black, white and gray, it displayed the deadly heart defect that left him breathless, blue, and fighting to live.
The door opened. An anesthesiologist’s head peeped in.
“Come on. Get scrubbed. The patient is ready.” She was in a hurry.
“One moment,” I replied. “I haven’t finished seeing this angiogram.”
And then, she spoke the words that opened my eyes to a stark realization – and led me to make a major career choice… to resign my position at India’s biggest congenital heart surgery center.
“It doesn’t matter.”
She went on, “Dr.R has seen it already.”
Dr.R was the consultant who’d be performing the surgery. I was assisting him. Until then, I thought my role in the unit was important. That what I did mattered.
Apparently, it did not.
I was redundant. Unnecessary. Irrelevant.
A week later, I quit.
And moved to the University hospital where I had trained. A place where I conducted surgery on my own. Where I was actually making a difference.
Where my evaluating a patient’s reports before surgery mattered.
Where my involvement with the child’s family mattered.
Where my teaching and guiding a resident trainee on proper procedure and conduct of complex surgery mattered.
Yes, it matters.
It matters where you are. It matters what you do. It matters whom you impact.
It should.
And if it doesn’t, well, maybe you don’t belong there?!
{ 2 comments }
Once upon a time I worked at the headquarters of an insurance company. The office was some 240 miles from my home and so I stayed in hotels most of the time. In the morning I was frequently one of the first to arrive, figuring that my time was better spent getting work done whilst it was still quiet rather than killing time watching morning TV in a hotel room until the official start time.
Most mornings as I arrived, the Managing Director, Mervyn, also arrived and we share the lift to the top floor. But on the way in, it was very noticeable that Mervyn would poke his head inside the post-room door to exchange morning pleasantries and maybe share a joke. Next to the post-room was the office and toilet cleaner’s store, and again Mervyn made a point of speaking. It always struck me as good practice for a manager to be ‘available’ to his staff, and it also made staff feel that the work that they did was valued, and that they were valued.
One morning when we arrived, the door to the cleaner’s store was shut and Mervyn asked the post-room guys “Where’s Alec?”
No-one seemed to know.
“Would someone let me know when he arrives please?” asked the MD.
“Is he in trouble?” asked one of the post-room guys.
“Of course not,” said Mervyn, “I just want to make sure that he’s OK.”
As we rode the lift that morning, I said, “That was nice of you.”
He looked at me, head slightly cocked to one side, “It’s nothing to do with being nice, Jon,” he smiled at me, “it’s about making sure that people know that they matter. After all, if Alec isn’t around we could all end up knee deep in poo!”
Jon
Yes, Dr. Mani, yes. It does matter and trying to capitalize on that reality does make a difference. Thanks for the example and the thoughts.
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