Letter to My Colleague

I can't treat cancer without a team. I believe in my team. I support my team. I want them to succeed.

After doctors finish residency or fellowship, we take board exams. Many of these are "written" (on a computer), others are "oral" (you stand in front of a panel of examiners who verbally ask you questions). Regardless, you walk out of there for the most part mentally drained. The worst part for me was in the weeks leading up to the exam, making sure I knew all the little tidbits of knowledge I could gather. A year after I took my written board exams, a surgery colleague was preparing to take his oral boards. He came to me for help studying the oncology stuff he needed to know. As I watched him absorb the knowledge, I thought about how a few days prior, I went into the operating room to watch him remove a lymph node from someone's neck. I thought about how the patient and I needed his expertise to best overcome this disease. I thought about how good he was at his job, and how -- despite the outcome of this test -- he was my teammate.

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My Dear Colleague,

From time to time the governing bodies of our respective societies see fit to put us through a rigorous testing regime to presumably ensure that our skills are adequate to practice our specialties to the standards that they feel are necessary. No testing is ever so anxiety-provoking than that of the initial certification. As the possibility of failure looms in your mind while the more rational side of your brain tries to reassure you that you have done everything possible to prepare, you are still left feeling at a great disadvantage for one reason or another. We doctors are considered some of the smartest people in the world, however, when put to the test, all of us feel like we might fail. I cannot tell you the outcome of what you will endure, but I know that despite their hardest questions and your best answers, they will never be able to fully assess your worth as a thoracic surgeon. This is because your worth to us as your colleagues is so much more than the sum of your medical knowledge and skilled hands. In the short time I have known you, you have demonstrated an extraordinary thirst for self-improvement while keeping your confidence as an expert in your field. I realize that by the similarities of our belief system and values I have become more of a confidant than others and am privy to your insecurities, but I promise you that if you continue to show the same humility and passion for your work, you will continue to find friends among medical oncologists long after my departure. At this hospital where specialists are few, it is often required that trust is given before it is earned, however, you have earned my trust. Just as Evarts A. Graham, the first surgeon to perform a successful pneumonectomy for lung cancer, regarded his oncologist friend Edward Reinhard as the “quintessential internist, brilliant in all aspects of his specialty,” I hope you come to trust me just the same…though like you, I was convinced at the time that I had failed at least one if not both board exams. I have faith in you, regardless of the outcome.

Your colleague,

Dr. G