A colleague died this week. Todd Mainprize, our Division Head of Neurosurgery. I didn’t know him that well, but we crossed paths several times over the years. Since learning of his death, our last encounter has played out several times in my head.
It was maybe a year ago and some of the details are fuzzy. The patient was admitted under me, and he was in the ED waiting for a bed on the ward. His brain MRI revealed a vascular abnormality so we got neurosurgery involved.
The resident arrived first. He was followed surprisingly quickly by Todd, who showed up in Blue Zone in his scrubs.
The first thing I recall is how pleasant and collegial he was. If we’d interrupted his day, you would never have known it.
He was genuinely enthusiastic about the consult. He seemed eager to be there.
He was genuinely enthusiastic about the consult. He seemed eager to be there.
I remember him scrolling through the MRI, sharing his observations aloud and pointing things out as he went.
For a few minutes it felt like I was back in Med 4, listening to one of those teachers who knew his stuff but who also knew how to explain things, and who cared that you understood too.
I remember going to the beside together and watching him explain, in the simplest, clearest way, what the MRI showed, why surgery wasn’t needed just then, and what his suggested approach would be over the longer term.
I remember how he patiently answered the family’s questions, and how he put them at ease not just with the thoughtfulness and clarity of his answers, but with his overall manner. His body language was key. He was really, exclusively there for them.
When the consult was finished, he left just as quickly as he’d arrived, back to clinic or maybe the OR. I never saw him again after that. But I remember thinking that if a family member ever needed a neurosurgeon, Todd would be the first person I’d call.
A few times since then, while reviewing a consult, I’ve caught myself channelling my Inner Todd. It’s not a conscious thing, but it’s a testament to how one clinician can subtly influence another, even at midcareer, just by being a really good doctor.
When I was a resident, one of my attendings told me the ‘Three As’ of being a consultant were, in order, Affability, Availability, and Ability.
I’m not sure about the order, but Todd embodied all three. And we could all be a little more like him.
sunnybrook.ca
I’m not sure about the order, but Todd embodied all three. And we could all be a little more like him.
sunnybrook.ca
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