Yesterday, at dusk, I was going through my many stacks of stuff in the “rat’s nest” (my wife’s affectionate nickname for my little study). The piles had gotten so high that they were becoming unwieldy, threatening to bury any of the cats that might have been just a little too inquisitive and upset their precarious balance. Whenever they get like that, I have to break down and get rid of some stuff.

The problem is that I’m a bit of a pack rat (hence, the “rat’s nest”). I have stuff that dates back to my childhood lying around. It’s a kind of controlled chaos that drives my wife nuts. But like others with this disease, I’m perfectly content and know where to find most anything I need, when I need it (well… more or less).

The truth is, my artistic nature made me one helluva surgeon and much more personable and approachable than the typical “surgical personality.” I believe it made me a much better doctor-a healer, not just an ace technician. But it also thrives in chaos.

I completely lacked organization and discipline in nearly every area of my life…except the operating room. In there, I was like a precision anal retentive machine. 180 degrees from my “normal” M.O. Kind of like Jekyll and Hyde, you know? Of course, if you have to pick one place to be anal, the O.R. is the place.

In fact, if not for the wonderful girls in my office and my wife at home, I never would have gotten anything done. They made me a schedule, pointed me in the right direction and gave me a push.

Of course, I had the good sense to know my weak spots and I made sure to hire (and marry) the best. But I must say, I do miss them (well, my girls. I still have my wife, but for some odd reason, she’s less inclined to try to organize my “area”). Left to my own devices, my study is a study in bedlam.

So, there I was, sun going down through the plantation shuttered windows to my left, looking through some of my old stuff. I was trying to see what I could get rid of and live without. As I considered each item, and relived the memories it conjured, I came across my old medical school yearbook, Fleur-O-Scope.

(Lame name, I know, but I didn’t name it. I was just Co-Editor-in-Chief and Art Editor, in my year. Some nameless senior in decades past has to take the rap for that name.)

Anyway, I spent a few minutes, that somehow became a couple of hours, looking through it. I saw a number of my old friends, fellow students, some already gone now, and relived the adventures we shared, learning the art of Medicine.

One guy I remember with fondness, was the class orthopod. That is, he always wanted to become an orthopaedic surgeon. As luck would have it, I constantly made fun of him for his wanting to go into orthopeadics. “Don’t you want to be a REAL surgeon, Vic?”

At that time, I was all set to become a cardiovascular/thoracic surgeon. And, at that time, like many people who know no better, I thought orthopaedics was all crude, like carpentry. I learned differently, in time.

Fate seems to richly enjoy irony. My pal Vic did indeed become an orthopod, but then… so did I. You see? You just never know.

Unfortunately, after a number of years in practice, on the South Shore of Long island, while I was on the North Shore, he succumbed to lymphoma. All too many of those young faces in that yearbook have already cashed in their chips.

But that set me to thinking about the rest of my training, my time as a resident in St. Luke’s in New York, my fellowship in Boston, learning to deal with end stage arthritis and hone my natural gifts to a scalpel’s edge.

I remembered how Dr. Potter taught me to do a total knee replacement, totally freehand, by eye, well before the modern instruments and techniques were invented and popularized.

I remembered how Dr. Bierbaum taught me to do a hip surgery, by watching him. I just didn’t understand when he told me I could learn more by watching him than by trying to do it myself, with his guidance. He was right, as it turned out, but I didn’t get it, at the time.

I remembered how I really appreciated the genius of Dr. Turner when it “hit the fan” during surgery. Nobody better when you had to be right, the first time, when it was all on the line.

And I remembered my personal talk with the legendary Dr. Otto Aufranc (after whom my fellowship was named), at the end of my fellowship. He had been the teacher of my teachers. And one of his greatest principles was that the soft tissues around the joint had to be treated with gentleness and respect, an unusual approach to orthopaedics, to say the least.

He emphasized physical therapy and exercise, before and after surgery, far beyond any other surgeon I ever saw, or heard of (except for those he taught). He didn’t rush to do surgery, but tried to enhance functional motion and relieve joint pain, with conservative measures, including exercises designed to strengthen and mobilize the hip and knee.

His idea was to “get the tissues ready,” and avoid surgery until the tissues (and the afflicted joint) were ready for surgery, if that was what was needed. Hip and knee pain nostalgia….

And as I ended my reveries with a gentle smile, remembering with fondness and gratitude all those who taught me and helped to forge me into the physician and surgeon I became, I realized that I had stayed true to Dr. Aufranc’s ideals, for my entire career…and even now that my surgical career is over, I still do, with the special exercises in my PAIN-FREE PROGRAM & DVD.

http://www.drbillsclinic.com/exercise_eliminate.html

They relieve pain; they restore function. In many cases, they help to avoid knee surgery. Somehow, I think that Dr. Aufranc and my other teachers would approve.

But don’t take my word for it. If you have knee pain and want to be rid of it, or just want to prevent it, then click the link above and see for yourself.

Til next time, my friend, be well.

Yours for a pain-free tomorrow and your optimal health,

Dr. Bill

“The Wellness Warrior” TM