Cutting for Stone - Abraham Verghese [211]
“I could have gone into urology or plastic. That's what people often do if they're bumped at that stage. Many foreign graduates give up and wind up in psychiatry or something. But I love general surgery The same guy who went to bat for me got me into another hospital, this time in Chicago, with the promise that I'd be promoted if I repeated my third year. I worked even harder—and got bumped again.” He laughed at my expression of incredulity. “It helps to be me, I suppose. To not expect too much. To love surgery for its own sake. But I was lucky. One of the attending physicians in Chicago went out on a limb for me. He called Popsy, and he arranged for me to come here as a fourth-year resident. That's the funny thing about America—the blessed thing. As many people as there are to hold you back, there are angels whose humanity makes up for all the others. I've had my share of angels. Popsy was one of those.”
Popsy made Deepak Chief Resident overnight, but with the proviso that he be Chief Resident for two years. Deepak was in his last year of training when I arrived.
“So you will be done the same day I finish my internship?”
His silence made me anxious.
Slowly he shook his head.
“We got notice today of a site visit soon from the people who accredit our residency training program. If they don't like what they see, they can shut us down. We've got too few interns. And too few resident physicians at every level for the patient volume we handle. Not to mention too few faculty.”
“How did this happen?”
“Our competition is sweetening the pot. We were lucky to get you and Nestor and Rahul. We need more interns, more full-time faculty. Popsy just isn't as influential as he once was to attract good faculty. At this point, it's only Popsy s credentials and academic history that give our program accreditation. On paper, Popsy is golden. If Popsy steps down, or word gets out that he has early dementia, the house of cards falls.”
I must have looked concerned because he said, “Don't worry. You'll be able to find another slot and get credit for this year.”
“Is that what it is about—the bailiff serving you papers?”
“Oh, that's my so-called wife. Now she thinks I must be making a lot of money so she is filing in New York for spousal support. I have a lawyer who tells me that I have nothing to worry about. I owe her nothing.”
“What about you, Deepak? What will you do if this place closes?”
“I don't know, Marion. I can't go through this again. Can't keep assisting someone who is my ‘senior’ but is butchering the case and doesn't have the sense to ask me to help. Maybe I'll just keep on working here. Sister Magda says the hospital will employ me. I'll live here, just like Popsy lives here. I'll operate. The hospital doesn't care if I am board certified or not, particularly if the residency program closes. Our Lady needs a surgeon. I'll be another Popsy. Believe it or not, Popsy, till his breakdown, was a super surgeon,” Deepak said. “What's more important, he was a fine man. Truly color-blind.”
After Mr. Walters's surgery, Deepak had spread the word that Popsy was not to operate anymore at any cost.
“Is there anything we can do to keep them from shutting us down?” I asked Deepak.
“Pray,” he said.
CHAPTER 42
Bloodlines
IPRAYED, BUT IT DIDN'T HELP. With two months to go to finish my internship and for Deepak to finish his Chief Residency, our program was placed on probation. I worried about my fate. It was bad enough that we might be closed down, but it would be worse not to get credit for the year I'd put in. I felt terrible for Deepak,