""Are you taking the Conjoint?" he asked Philip.

"Yes, I want to get qualified as soon as I can."

"I'm taking it too, but I shall take the F. R. C. S. afterwards. I'm going in for surgery."

Little does Philip know how much a handicap his clubfoot
would be in the operating room. In those days there were
surgeons who would slash you with a scapel if you could
not stand rock steady. Of course, operations had to be short in those days, because I don't think they had blood
tranfusions then, and surgeons prided themselve of speed
to avoid onset of shock. The chief of surgery at CMGH
still prided himself on his speed. The first time he had
a board certified anesthetist, when the anesthetist told
him the patient was ready, he snorted:"Hell, man, I'm
all through." And he was.