was scathing. The doctors who had worked with Anthony in Philadelphia recalled that he was lazy and slipshod when he came into the residency, and that he never improved while he was there. “He would routinely show up late for rounds, claiming he had done work he had not done, say he had seen intensive care unit (ICU) patients that he had not seen, fabricate laboratory data, fabricate physical examination data, fabricate information about postoperative patients that he had not seen. This was routine…”
Anthony scoffed at his evaluation. “If I had been such a bad doctor…practicing for four years…If I were as bad as I’m made out to appear, I’m sure that something would have happened by now.”
As indeed it had. More than one “something” had happened. He had simply forgotten the dead biopsy patient and the young man whose brain had been pierced by an errant blade.
Dr. H. said that no one at Thomas Jefferson should be compelled to recommend that Anthony take the otolaryngology board exam. He concurred that Pignataro was in no way qualified for either skill or good moral character. Stung, Anthony challenged the findings of the arbitrator he himself had chosen, and he requested a review in federal court.
In May 1995, Anthony withdrew his lawsuit, and it was dismissed.
Actually, he cared very little about the practice of otolaryngology. It was only a stepping-stone for him on his way to plastic surgery. He had had minimal formal training in that delicate art, although he still attended every conference he could afford where plastic surgeons gathered. He leaned toward techniques that were more experimental than accredited. Aware that there was a lot of competition in plastic surgery, Anthony focused on procedures that were new and dramatic, something that would attract patients to him.
And he continued to work on his permanent subcutaneous underwire to lift sagging breasts.
5
D r. Ralph Pignataro could see no wrong in his doctor son, nor could his wife. Anthony considered his father his greatest mentor. He had always spent hours on the phone with his father, discussing the cases he saw in medical school and residency. Anthony said he idolized his father, and that was probably true.
Both Dr. Ralph and Dr. Anthony were bald. There was a strong balding gene in the Pignataro family, and Anthony had started to lose his hair when he was only 23. He continued to be vain about how he looked. He tried comb-overs held in place by hairspray, and then toupees held down with glues, clips, and tie-downs. He even resorted to intricate weaves that combined human hair from someone else with the rapidly retreating rim of hair that still remained.
He concluded that women wanted large, perky breasts and men wanted hair. Anthony figured—correctly—that there would be an unlimited market for an expensive real hairpiece that would never blow off or even slip sideways. As an intern, he had once seen a technique called implantology in which surgeons used snaps to anchor artificial eyes, noses, and even ears. Further, Anthony recalled that dental surgeons had successfully implanted teeth in a procedure known as osseointegration, in which the replacement tooth was threaded into the softer bone tissue of the jaw. After about four months’ healing time, the teeth had literally grown into the bone.
What if a man—or a woman, for that matter—could have snaps implanted into their skulls? Anthony thought it could be possible to have the receptacle part of the snap sewn into a hairpiece. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that putting snaps into a skull would pose less danger of infection than putting a tooth into a bacteria-laden mouth.
“I recall that at the time, it seemed like a crazy idea,” Anthony said. “I initially exercised caution with whom I would discuss the details of the project.”
Other doctors, including his own father, found his research bizarre, but Anthony kept on. He knew
Anthony scoffed at his evaluation. “If I had been such a bad doctor…practicing for four years…If I were as bad as I’m made out to appear, I’m sure that something would have happened by now.”
As indeed it had. More than one “something” had happened. He had simply forgotten the dead biopsy patient and the young man whose brain had been pierced by an errant blade.
Dr. H. said that no one at Thomas Jefferson should be compelled to recommend that Anthony take the otolaryngology board exam. He concurred that Pignataro was in no way qualified for either skill or good moral character. Stung, Anthony challenged the findings of the arbitrator he himself had chosen, and he requested a review in federal court.
In May 1995, Anthony withdrew his lawsuit, and it was dismissed.
Actually, he cared very little about the practice of otolaryngology. It was only a stepping-stone for him on his way to plastic surgery. He had had minimal formal training in that delicate art, although he still attended every conference he could afford where plastic surgeons gathered. He leaned toward techniques that were more experimental than accredited. Aware that there was a lot of competition in plastic surgery, Anthony focused on procedures that were new and dramatic, something that would attract patients to him.
And he continued to work on his permanent subcutaneous underwire to lift sagging breasts.
5
D r. Ralph Pignataro could see no wrong in his doctor son, nor could his wife. Anthony considered his father his greatest mentor. He had always spent hours on the phone with his father, discussing the cases he saw in medical school and residency. Anthony said he idolized his father, and that was probably true.
Both Dr. Ralph and Dr. Anthony were bald. There was a strong balding gene in the Pignataro family, and Anthony had started to lose his hair when he was only 23. He continued to be vain about how he looked. He tried comb-overs held in place by hairspray, and then toupees held down with glues, clips, and tie-downs. He even resorted to intricate weaves that combined human hair from someone else with the rapidly retreating rim of hair that still remained.
He concluded that women wanted large, perky breasts and men wanted hair. Anthony figured—correctly—that there would be an unlimited market for an expensive real hairpiece that would never blow off or even slip sideways. As an intern, he had once seen a technique called implantology in which surgeons used snaps to anchor artificial eyes, noses, and even ears. Further, Anthony recalled that dental surgeons had successfully implanted teeth in a procedure known as osseointegration, in which the replacement tooth was threaded into the softer bone tissue of the jaw. After about four months’ healing time, the teeth had literally grown into the bone.
What if a man—or a woman, for that matter—could have snaps implanted into their skulls? Anthony thought it could be possible to have the receptacle part of the snap sewn into a hairpiece. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that putting snaps into a skull would pose less danger of infection than putting a tooth into a bacteria-laden mouth.
“I recall that at the time, it seemed like a crazy idea,” Anthony said. “I initially exercised caution with whom I would discuss the details of the project.”
Other doctors, including his own father, found his research bizarre, but Anthony kept on. He knew
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