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The Understudy: On Being a Doctor

All agreed. The investigators’ meeting, located in an extravagant hotel in a major city, was an unqualified success. A fancy breakfast brought the participants (one after another) from their luxurious rooms a few floors up to gather on the second floor. All anticipated the initiation of an important study. Exuberant excitement was palpable as details of a new multicenter clinical trial were about to unfold. The study could undoubtedly change the management of patients after cardiac surgery. After breakfast, the meeting room filled with 25 people in attendance. Not a single extra seat was to be found. The Principal Investigator who ran the meeting kicked things off. He was witty, engaging, and confident. He was a mellifluous speaker. No one knew him as The Understudy. He thanked one audience member after another, by name, for attending and for their contributions so far, except for one old man, who could not find a seat. This old man stood out like a sore thumb. He stood near the door with a cup of coffee in hand. Apparently, he arrived a little late. His hotel was far away. This senior participant had driven a long distance the night before after a demanding, complicated, and stressful day caring for patients. He needed to arrive to attend the late night preliminary meeting held to ensure that today’s fanfare would be a success. It was proving to be just that. Truth be told, the whole idea and the reason for the research was his. No one would even have been there if not for his vision, but he was there mainly to support the Principal Investigator, his trainee, his understudy. He was proud to see the results of his mentoring. His job seemed endless, training one fellow and resident after another. Lambasted by colleagues, ironically, he commanded respect. This senior professor was misunderstood by the new generation of trainees and colleagues who seemed to expect everything without the hard work necessary to achieve it. He saw his role go from being a molder and shaper of medicine to, simply, another health care provider. The night before, when he had finally arrived after the long and lonely drive, the organizers saved him a piece of cold stringy meat accompanied by three small undercooked asparagus stalks. He chose to have a glass of wine but when he spoke, his ideas were rebuked. It was just the wine speaking, they exclaimed. That night after the late meeting, he tried to check into the hotel hosting the session but despite his reservations, no rooms were available. The hotel clerk told him they were sorry but they were in an oversold situation. He received a coupon for a future stay. The coupon, however, did not help the journey through a dark sinister garage late that night filled with questionable characters hanging out in an old broken-down car. He finally ended up in a dingy hotel room in evident disrepair. He told himself it was a place to sleep. Morning finally arrived. Now, the meeting was in full swing and the old man did not have a seat. The Understudy was in complete control. No one cared about or even recognized his mentor. It was in with the new—out with the old. No one seemed to sense this though. For them, it was just business as usual.