Reflection time: We are better together
As my term as President of the Cleveland Surgical Society draws to a close, I want to use this moment to do something a little different. Rather than recap the year or look ahead to the society's agenda, I want to simply talk to you — colleague to colleague — about what I have learned over the years, and what I believe more deeply now than ever before.
Being a surgeon is hard. Not hard in a way that is easy to explain at a dinner party, but hard in every dimension that matters. It is hard technically. It is hard physically. And it is hard mentally. The time and effort required to get to where we are is immense, and the sacrifices along the way are real — birthday parties missed, vacations passed on, plans canceled at the last minute. We have all been there. They may sound like small things, but those small things add up. And they are not things that most of our friends, our families, or even colleagues in other specialties truly understand.
The mental toll is real too, and I want to be honest about it because I don't think we talk about it enough.
I consider myself an optimistic person. I am not superstitious. But we are taught in training to expect sabotage — to anticipate everything that could go wrong so that we can recognize a complication before it spirals. That mindset is essential in the OR. But it doesn't stay in the OR. Because of it, I have a genuinely hard time allowing myself to feel excited when an operation goes well. I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. And by the time a couple of weeks have passed and the patient is doing well, that excitement has dulled. The relief quietly replaces what should have been joy.
But when a complication happens — and they do happen, to all of us — that hits hard, and it stays with you. You spend far more time with the patients who have complications than with those who sail through. The difficult cases live in your mind longer. The lows, in this way, tend to overshadow the highs. And that can get to you.
I know, because it often gets to me.
I share this not to be discouraging, but because I want you to know that you are not alone in feeling this way. It happens to all of us — the most seasoned attendings and the newest members of our ranks alike. And the best thing that I have found to help get through it is to get through it together.
Your significant other loves you. Your friends outside of medicine support you. Your family wants to understand. But they cannot fully empathize — not really — in the way that another surgeon can. Someone who has stood where you stood, made the calls you have made, and carried the weight you are carrying right now.
That is what this society is about. Not just grand rounds and networking — but coming together as a genuine support system. We are fortunate to have extraordinary surgical talent spread across the incredible hospital systems in this city, and I want us to use that. Reach out to a colleague. Pick up the phone after a hard case. Check in on someone you haven't heard from in a while. Whether you are brand new to practice or decades into your career, do not be a stranger.
And when someone reaches out to you — don't judge. Just listen. That alone is more powerful than you might realize.
We are better together. I truly believe that.
It has been the honor to serve as your President. Thank you for that privilege — and for reminding me why I am proud to be a surgeon in Cleveland.
Sincerely,
Rob Simon, 76th President of the Cleveland Surgical Society
