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Prologue
There are few moments in your life that transform your lens on the world—and more importantly, your purpose. I remember one such day vividly—with every detail. The year was 1993. I was finishing my second year as a medical student at the University of Toronto and about to meet a surgeon at the Hamilton General Hospital to inquire about a summer elective. It was an uncomfortably warm day. My 3 piece suit (with a vest and tie) may have been a huge mistake. The meeting was set for 3pm or so, but I had arrived at 10am (for some odd reason thinking my usual drive from Toronto to Hamilton, normally 50 minutes, would somehow require 6 hours). I was very nervous to meet this surgeon—I didn’t know him, in fact, I didn’t even know what he looked like but something was telling me this was going to change my life and Hamilton would somehow be a big part of my future. At 2:55pm, I walked into his 4th floor office on Victoria Avenue and was greeted with a smile. “You must be Mohit! Dr. Lachowski will be out in a minute”, Linda Mclean smiled. I smiled and sat down. I noticed the calm of the office. It was a pink colour. I thought nothing of it back then, but having recently read Adam Alter’s “Drunk Tank Pink” now realize this was deliberate. Pink has historically been the colour known to calm nerves, research says. No wonder, a profusely sweating 23 year old medical student with an “off season” 1980’s suit would feel calm about meeting the surgeon who would inevitably change his life…forever. At 3:01 pm, I heard the door open and a voice utter, “Hello Mohit, I’m Richard Lachowksi, come in”.
He Had Me at Hello:
In that moment, from his reassuring smile, to his firm handshake, to his suit and tie, to the feeling of warmth I felt in his office, I knew my life would forever be changed by this incredible gentleman. He stepped out for a moment to get me a water (I think he thought I was melting). I looked around and noticed a lot of pictures; pictures of his wife, Lori, and young children. Every photograph was placed perfectly in the office that you could always see her from any vantage point. I didn’t think much of it then, but now realize that none of this was by accident. Dr. Lachowski asked me how I found him as there were really no elective students coming from Toronto those days. I remember telling him, I looked in the phone book and found the names of orthopaedic surgeons in Hamilton. I remember seeing his name somehow knowing I wanted to meet him (again, what appeared haphazard, was absolutely happening the way it was meant to be). We spoke about University of Toronto and Dr. Lachowski beamed with pride remembering his days in Toronto. And so it was done. I was his elective student from Toronto. He was so talented, so admired, and so hard-working. My parents, within the first few month, knew him as the “Great Dr. Lachowski” because I would only talk about him and what had happened each day. As luck would have it, I also witnessed the fruits of his tireless mentorship of residents and fellows including Edmundo Berumen, Paul Moroz, Pervez Ali, Mark Ginty and Lou Sanders—to name but a few shining examples of that time.
Then it Happened:
It was a sense of sadness (how was this possible in only a few summer months in 1993) that my elective was coming to an end. I remember telling Dr. Lachowski, I was in “awe” (I said exactly that) of him and wished this elective was not over. I told him, that before the summer, I wasn’t entirely sure where I was supposed to be, but I knew I wanted to be an orthopaedic surgeon. My vision of my life was transformed in 8 weeks—and I would not be here today, writing this reflection had I not had the privilege of meeting Richard Lachowski and wanting so badly, to follow in his example. True to his mentorship, Dr. Lachowski said, “Mohit, it doesn’t have to end. Why don’t you come work with me anytime you’re in town visiting your family?”. I took that literally, and for the next 1.5 years spent every call (as many as I could) with Dr. Lachowski—just smiling, working hard, and watching him. He was a master, not only in surgery, but in his patience for teaching students, his support of faculty, and his adoration of his wife, Lori, and children, Christopher and Angela. There were many times he would drive mehome to my east mountain home at 3am to save my father from picking me up.
Epilogue
There hasn’t been a day in the past 5 months, that I haven’t paused for a moment to think about Richard Lachowski. Curious, though, that he comes into my mind at points during my day where I face a small challenge -almost always related to some issue of “time”—a tradeoff between work or playing with my 7 old year old, Kaya, or between sitting at the table and enjoying a dinner with family or answering my cell phone. The only wealth we have is “time”. I am reminded now, more than ever, as I carry the memory of Richard Lachowski in my heart, for the rest of the time I have on this earth.
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Richard Lachowski was a special mentor in my career and life. He taught me principles of patient care and was meticulous in the OR. Always up for a challenge, he impressed upon me that I truly can do anything - at work or in my personal life.
I recall when I was a resident and he hosted journal club at his home. Unexpectedly, I arrived at his home quite early. None of the other residents were there. He and his wife, Lori, never skipped a beat. They welcomed me in their home and introduced me to their children, Christopher and Angela. The children toured me around their home and showed me their pet chinchilla. Richard and Lori were warm and inviting and truly gracious hosts. As residents, we enjoyed the journal club discussions, but truthfully, we looked forward to the gourmet meal they prepared!
Over the years, it was my honour to work with Richard as a colleague at St. Joseph's Healthcare. He was always supportive of me and my endeavours. One weekend evening, early on in my career, I was struggling with a subtrochanteric femur fracture. After some significant time, I decided to call my colleagues for help. Richard was the only one home that night and he answered the phone. He, without further thought, postponed his dinner plans with Lori to come to the OR to help me out. There was only support in his actions and words in the OR and never a complaint about his foiled evening.
For me, Richard epitomized the definition of a gentleman. Although, I will truly miss him, I will carry forward the life and work lessons he taught me.
Thank you Richard for all the great memories. You will always be in my heart.
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I was honored when Richard Lachowski asked me if I would be interested in spending a year as his fellow in arthroplasty and orthopedic trauma at the Hamilton General Hospital in 1994/1995 following my orthopedic residency. It was a great year of learning joint replacement surgery all day, and trauma all night. I can still hear Richard’s “grandfatherly voice” (he wasn't after all that much older than me but he had this certain tone) after I screwed something up and he would say: “Now, Paul…there’s a better way to do that” as he fixed up my mistake. But his voice would never be vile or demeaning, and it was always hushed so no one else could hear. He didn't need to embarrass me to teach me master surgery. To this day I try to be like this with my own residents and fellows. Richard Lachowski was a mentor’s mentor.
And while a few people would occasionally say Richard took too long in the operating room I have never seen anyone literally put back together an incredibly shattered calcaneous or acetabulum like Richard could. He was truly a superb craftsman with his hands.
Another recollection of Richard was a time in the “bad days” of the early 1990’s where occasionally there might be no resident coverage at night at the Hamilton General Hospital, the trauma center for the region. The staff-man had to take all the pages and even calls from the hospital floor. One night a little old lady with a fractured hip would have sudden shortness of breath and Richard himself would come into the General to assess her at 3 am, in shirt and tie but also with serious case of “bed-head”, according to the nurses. At least Richard had a nice crop of hair, unlike myself.
I must say that I regret not working harder to keep more in touch with Richard over the last few years, but his phone was always open and if 5 years went by between calls it was great because it was like we had talked yesterday. My sincerest condolences to Lori, Christopher and Angela at the loss of their husband and father. I will miss my friend and mentor.
Paul Moroz,
Lachowski Fellow 1994/1995
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