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half the time. After a while I did a few things to make being on call just a little more tolerable for myself and all the other boys who had to use those call rooms. I replaced scratchy hospital sheets with soft, comforting linen. I added some art, nice lighting, a hairdryer, a TV/DVD player and a fully stocked fridge. The boys would make a donation each week and I would keep the cupboards full. They would go through ten packets of biscuits a week. It is surprising what a difference those small comforts could make when you have only had an hour of sleep.
    As I began to think I might like to be a bowel surgeon, I started to plan how I would make that happen at the end of my surgical registrar training. There is a longstanding tradition in Australia that, when someone graduatesas a general surgeon, they travel overseas to increase their experience. Because of Australia’s relatively small population, there is a limit to the number of cases a trainee can be exposed to. Even with the crazy hours I was working, there simply weren’t enough cases available to gain the vast experience required to go it alone as a specialist general surgeon. Working in an overseas hospital was a once in a lifetime experience, especially if I wanted to focus on just one aspect of general surgery and become a ‘Super Specialist’. Most people went to the UK but I had always been obsessed with the idea of living in the USA. I grew up on a TV diet of Sesame Street , Family Ties and The Cosby Show and I yearned to drive on the right-hand side of the road, travel across Route 66 and live the American dream. Any doctor wanting to work in the States had to sit yet another series of examinations to be eligible, so even though it was years away, I flew to Sydney to do them. This included an English test that everyone (including native English speakers) had to pass. I guess the Americans weren’t too sure about the standard of the rest of the world’s English. I nearly failed that damn test because I got bored listening to the long stories being read in a thick American accent and didn’t pay attention. I scraped through, however, and I ticked off another qualification and filed it away for later. As it turns out, it was an excellent move, as an opportunity that would change the course of my life was just around the corner.

In the poo
    N o book about the life of a general surgeon would be complete without a chapter discussing faeces. Dealing with poo sounds strange, I realise, but someone has to help out the people who have problems in this area. It is a part of my job I just attend to with very little fanfare. As I’ve mentioned, as a teenager considering a career in medicine, I don’t think I knew much about what doctors actually did with their day. The one thing that I did know for sure was that they all spent some time sticking their fingers up people’s bottoms. I didn’t really understand what would prompt a doctor to do this but it seemed to be important work. The thoughtof perhaps having to do it was very nearly a good reason not to sign up for the job. I convinced myself at the time that maybe it would be possible to have a career in medicine and avoid it completely. Little did I know that in just a few short years I’d choose a career like general surgery that listed probing the anus as a job requirement. Like most things, the first time is the hardest and once you get used to doing it, it becomes routine. Oh, and you’ll be glad to know that I did learn the reason it needed to be done.
    It was pretty early on in medical school that I got the chance to do my first rectal examination or PR (per rectum) as we call it – that is, putting a gloved, well-lubricated finger in someone else’s bottom for the purpose of finding something unexpected. It is one of those things in your life that you remember exactly the moment you did it. Another surgeon who was also passionate about bowel surgery took