How to Do a Liver Transplant by Kellee Slater

To my horror, it became apparent that she would be there on the day of the written Surgical Primary examination. I was such afan that I actually considered deferring the exa m for another six months so I could go and see her. My hopes were buoyed, however, when I found out that she would not be arriving until half an hour after the exam was over. This was my window of opportunity. I flew through that exam, checked my work once and made my exit early so I could drive like a bat out of hell across town to see Dana Scully. As it turned out, all I got was a glimpse of her red hair over the heads of 4000 other frenzied, sweating fans, but that was all I needed to be satisfied.
    I had to wait three weeks to see if my celebrity addiction would cost me six months of study and a thousand dollars. Finally the day arrived; we had been instructed to call the exam hotline in the afternoon for our results. Of course I couldn’t concentrate all day and by two o’clock I couldn’t wait a moment longer. I locked myself in an office to make the call. The next few minutes would determine if I could move forward with my life. If I passed, it would show everyone that I was serious about being a surgeon, and if I failed, I would have to go back to the drawing board and do the gruelling study all over again. I dialled the number, said my name and held my breath while the secretary on the other end of the phone rifled through her pieces of paper.
    Finally the words ‘Slater – pass,’ came down the line.
    â€˜Are you sure?’ I asked, feeling warm tears of relief well up. I did it: I saw Gillian Anderson and I passed the Surgical Primary.
    Now I had the exam, only a few things stood in the way of my dream of starting surgical training. There was an interview before a panel of wise surgical men, and the positive recommendations from my bosses. I was only a junior doctor from a small provincial hospital, so no one aside from Dr Smith had really ever heard of me. To improve my chances of being selected, I travelled to Brisbane to introduce myself to the power players of general surgery to at least show them my face and tell them that I was really keen on being a surgeon. My first interview was with the Chairman of the Queensland Board in General Surgery, an important person to get to know, and funnily enough it is a position that, almost 20 years later, I now occupy. It is quite strange to think that people might be as intimidated by me as I was of him that day.
    â€˜I’d like to be a surgeon!’ I blurted out eagerly, before he even had a chance to sit down. He stared at me for what seemed like a long time, obviously thinking I was quite an idiot.
    â€˜Let me see your résumé,’ he said finally, extending his hand to receive it. I tasted a little bit of vomit in the back of my throat. I didn’t bring a résumé. In my extreme naivety, I had failed to realise that he might need to see anything more than my smiling face.
    â€˜I haven’t done anything to put in a résumé,’ I stammered, instantly wishing I could take the words back. The corner of his mouth lifted in a bemused smile andhe continued to give me a look that is still burned in my brain. To this day I cannot talk to him without reliving that moment. He didn’t have much more to say after that and I left the room thinking my career in surgery was probably over.
    That same day I also had an appointment to see Professor Russell Strong, one of the pioneers of liver transplantation in the world, i.e. not intimidating at all. I arrived ten minutes early for the interview and was greeted by his faithful secretary of many years. She did not look up from her computer as she told me to take a seat. She informed me that Professor Strong was in surgery and he would be along at some point. The first hour passed and I sat in silence.
    Out of nowhere, her eyes never moving from her computer screen, the secretary eventually said,