My Inspiration
Many people who know me also know that I have wanted to be a surgeon, or at least some type of physician, since I was a child. I can’t say what first attracted me to it other than sheer fascination and curiosity, but I can say with definite certainty that it has always been my goal. As soon as I was old enough, I obtained my EMT certification and became deeply ingrained in the local ambulance corps. Before and after then, I was volunteering in hospitals and even shadowing doctors. Every time I entered one of these situations, I was overwhelmed with excitement. I knew that was where I belonged for the rest of my life. But just after I was injured, although I knew I could complete medical school, I became very scared that surgery might be out of my reach forever.
After arriving at Mount Sinai, all of the attendings and residents made it clear to me that medical school certainly was not out of reach. But I got differing opinions from people about surgery. One friend that is currently a third-year surgical resident said that “all you need are your hands and the ability to move your head quickly throughout the surgical field. Moving your legs isn’t necessary, since we usually are standing in the same place for hours anyway.” I found this very encouraging, but still, who would really give someone in a wheelchair a shot at being a surgeon? How would I get myself into position properly? And how the heck would I get into an OR and maintain a sterile field?
In one of the rooms here at Sinai, they have inspirational stories taped onto the wall. Many are about paraplegics and tetraplegics that remain very active after their injury: fishing, playing tennis and of course, the infamous Murderball quad-rugby players. But one story on the wall particularly caught my eye. It was that of Dr. Dimple Bhatt, a recent MD/PhD graduate from The School of Medicine at Stony Brook University Medical Center. He was injured prior to medical school, completed his entire medical education in a wheelchair, and is now in the first year of his residency in neurology and psychiatry at NY Presbyterian Weill Cornell. Those statements alone do not do his story justice – he truly has not let the wheelchair alter who he is, or what he is capable of. It’s worth reading his whole story.
I’ve been in contact with a number of doctors who have told me stories of paras and tetras that have graduated from medical school and gone on to various specialties. Radiology seems to be popular, as it is challenging and does not require extreme dexterity. Many of the primary care fields are also an option, as are fields such as neurology and countless others.
Step 1, complete medical school in wheelchair: check.
While in rehab, I had learned about standing wheelchairs. They literally convert from a regular, sitting chair into a device that can stand a person completely upright. I was ecstatic. These were the devices that would allow me to function in an operating room should I remain in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. Standing was no longer insurmountable. But still, how would I ensure sterility in the OR? Would I need a separate chair that I would just keep at the hospital? And what would be likelihood of any residency program directors giving me a shot, despite whatever my board scores turn out to be?
Enter the story of Peter A. Galpin, MD. A recent addition to the blog’s Inspirational Stories section, he was the first person to complete medical school and become a surgeon from a wheelchair. And he did this in the 80′s, long before today’s more socially conscious climate. Heck, he even did part of his general surgery residency right here at Mount Sinai Hospital.
Because he wanted to prove that he didn’t need any special accomodations, he had a wheelchair company custom build a standing chair for him. Throughout residency and thereafter, he worked from his standing chair. He has gone on to become chief of surgery at his hospital, and now he has his OR staff all sitting. This story has a great photo.
Step 2, perform surgery from a wheelchair: check.
Since finding out about Dr. Galpin, I’ve since heard of several more inspiring stories. He references the story of a Stanford Medical School grad who is entering surgery. I have heard stories from people close to family members, and found more on the web. Surgery is definitely not out of the question. Far from it. It’s a challenging pathway for even the able-bodied, but there’s no reason the added challenge of doing it from a wheelchair has to be impossible.
If they can do it, so can I. And I will, regardless of whether or not I am still in a wheelchair come time for residency. I thank Dr. Bhatt, Dr. Galpin and those who have gone before me for being such an inspiration to everybody.
NOW you’re getting REALLY inspiring.
I love the way you’re out there finding all the evidence you can that this is do-able. I did something similar, and it worked.
Early in my disease an RN in my online peer community said that by seeking out the best doctors and being actively engaged in your care, you automatically place your outcome above the median. I didn’t bother asking her for a cite – that was good enough for me.
I think the RN you refer to is absolutely right. Before coming to Sinai, we spent time researching the different rehab centers in the NY metro area. We determined that Sinai was the best choice for me, and I was fortunate enough to have a phenomenal attending in Dr. Stein and the incredible therapists they have here.
But of those who seek the best providers and are engaged in their care, by the nature of their behavior they are mentally driven to seek the best possible outcome. Couldn’t an interesting component be that these people are also the most likely to be a self-fulfilling prophecy? Consider it akin to the placebo effect, if you will. Only much stronger.
Whether it’s placebo or self-fulfilling or just plain effective method, it’s all good with me. My median survival time was 24 weeks, and I didn’t much care about the details of why the 98% were there – all I cared about was how to be one of the outlying specimens.
I’m also a pretty strong believer in the power of vivid visualization, which I imagine does tie in to self-fulfilling prophecy. After all, we all know what “placebo” means in Latin.
Great post! Here’s another idea for you to explore: several healthcare professions schools have patient/healthcare simulators. I’d lay odds that somewhere in your neck of the woods, there is one which includes an OR set-up. See if you can get access and some mentoring and do some exploration in an OR environment. The other idea is to contact surgeons or OR nurse leaders and ask to spend some downtime in empty OR’s where you can measure equipment heights, clearances and access. Don’t forget to include anesthesia as a clinical possibility, as well.
Chris,
I agree…You can do it. You have the attitude and the determination. What else could a person want.
Go with gusto.
Aunt Jane
Thank you, my dear Aunt Jane.
Annie – excellent point! I didn’t even think of that one bit! The school I am deferred at has a brand new simulation center, and although I don’t believe there is an area specifically for OR simulation, one of the rooms looks like it could possibly be used for that purpose.
I know some people at a number of area hospitals that might be able to help get me access to an OR so that I can explore, measure and so forth. Also a good idea.
As far as anaesthesiology, I have thought about it – but I’m still more drawn to the act of operating itself. There’s plenty of time for me to figure it out, though.
Thanks for the great suggestions!
Kudos for not giving up. I was one of those ‘rare’ side effects of vaccines. Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. Pain isn’t the half of it, though. Due to the vasoconstriction and muscle imbalances, pretty much my entire spine is filled with bulging discs including one at T8/T9 that causes mild to moderate myelopathic symptoms.
Mostly what I heard is what I couldn’t do. I’d never be a swimmer again. I was only a year and a half later. Not as good as I used to be but pretty good for a guy with massive nerve damage limiting the strength, endurance, and proprioception of an entire arm. I’d never be off pain pills. Actually, never been on them. I’d never be active again. HAH! I’m actually an aspiring strength athlete now and plan to do my first competition this summer. Even though I can’t shave my face without taking multiple breaks, or hold a steering wheel or a book, or even write more than a page.
With a condition that results in a 30% suicide rate and a 70% disability rate, I’m pretty happy. When people ask me how I managed it (half the time having to see MRIs or EMG/NCVs to believe just how pervasive it is), I say it’s because of people like you. Because yeah it sucks more than most people could ever begin to imagine, but at least I had the capacity to appear normal.
Guys like you are why I keep going. And guys like you are why I decided to go into psychiatry, to show people with serious illness that even if their potential may be limited by their disorders, it’s usually a lot less limited than they think it is.
Indiancowboy – wow. That’s all I can think to say. Your story is truly inspirational itself . You’ve got absolutely the right attitude in refusing to accept the limitations people try to impose on you. While I certainly understand statistics and how they often work against us, nothing is absolute. I firmly believe that the only limitations that truly matter are those we impose on ourselves. Just as able-bodied people, the moment we stop trying to better ourselves is the moment we settle for a life less than we might be capable of. I intend to spend the next year doing everything in my power to walk again, because if I don’t give it every ounce of strength I’ve got, I’d live the rest of my life wondering what might have been.
Best of luck with the strength competition! That’s really awesome to hear.