ESTS Presidential Address: Books, songs and thoracic surgery

Mr President-Elect, Council Members, distinguished representatives of Sister Societies, ladies and gentlemen. For those of you attending this meeting every year, the Presidential address is probably considered the easiest talk along the congress: no questions or discussants are allowed at the end! But for me, coming up to the podium today, feeling enormously honoured and still not believing that I am the President of the European Society of Thoracic Surgeons (ESTS), this is really a hard task, believe me. I am used to 10 min presentations on highly specialised topics, and now I am requested to speak half an hour on whatever I want... When I started thinking on how to fix my speech, a Woody Allen sentence came to my mind: ‘The trick is to start at the ending ... Get a good strong ending and then write backwards’ [1]. In my case I had crystal clear in my mind what the ending would be and had a curious title. I just had to put something in between. I should have been a music player. In fact, Gonzalo Soriano, a famous Spanish piano player was my favourite cousin and my Godfather (Fig. 1). As a child, he took me many times to big theatres where he was performing, sometimes surrounded by a big orchestra, sometimes alone. I admired him while he was playing in front of a multitude. As a consequence, nice melodies and good songs have been in my mind all my life, occasionally inspiring my decisions. When I was 7, I wanted to be a knight. At school, we were obliged to read Don Quixote [2] out loud, from our chairs. I started to dream in great adventures, like Don Quixote fighting the windmills—ferocious dragons inside of his sick mind—but soon I identified the barber—one of the characters in the book—as my favourite. The barber was a quiet man trying to cure Don Quixote from his mental sickness by burning all his chivalry books with the help of the priest and some of Don Quixote’s relatives. As it is well known, in medieval Europe barbers had the role of the modern surgeons. That was my first clumsy approximation to the medical world. Regarding music, I was not very much attracted by the classics at that time. I spent my time rocking and twisting. No exciting lyrics to pay attention to. Soon I forgot chivalry stories when, in my early teens, a nice novel entitled The Citadel [3] was given to me by my old aunties. I didn’t know at that time that the book was a former bestseller, both in Europe and North America, and that its rerelease in the late 40s served to increase people’s expectation before the launch of the National Health Service in Scotland [4]. In the novel, a young idealistic Scott, Andrew Manson, after graduating in Medicine comes to South Wales as a rural family physician. His qualities and commitment to patients soon lead him to establish a wealthy high-class practice in London. A few years later, he sells all his estate and comes back to rural practice to spend his time in what he considers to be the real Medicine. After reading that fantastic novel I decided that I had to become a family physician. Dr Manson represented all I appreciated in a doctor: he was knowledgeable, skilled, responsible, innovative and empathic. At that time, mid-60s, modern music was full of strong social and idealistic messages. Those were changing times; just remember the impact of songs like Dylan’s ‘The times they are a-changin’, The Beatles’ ‘She’s leaving home’ or the sweet Elvis Presley voice singing ‘If I can dream’. Not many years later, during a rotation as intern in cardiothoracic surgery, I had the privilege of working under the supervision of Prof. Carlos MG Duran (Fig. 2). I was fortunate enough to work with him for two years and I was caught by his commitment to patients, superb surgical skills, and scientific approach to surgery. Thus, I changed my mind and decided to become a surgeon. As in the lyrics of the famous Hotel California by the Eagles: ‘I could check-out any time I liked, but I could never leave ... surgery’. When I conveyed to Dr Duran my idea of becoming a thoracic surgeon he answered: ‘You’d better be a good doctor first. Surgeons need to have a deep knowledge of cardio-pulmonary physiology, good clinical skills and sound habits for clinical reasoning and decisionmaking. Only after that you’ll be ready to start your training in surgery’. Since then I have always tried to be just a reasonably good doctor.