I just had the craziest experience at the airport.
We are about to board a flight to Atlanta when the pilot from the incoming plane walks out of the jetway. Guy is probably late 50s, salt and pepper hair, military look. The kind of pilot you instantly feel good about seeing on your flight.
Pilot walks over to the counter, gets on the PA system, and starts addressing everyone. “Folks, I’ve been doing this a long time. Flying one of these jets is easy. The hard part is looking at 130 people and telling them their flight is going to be delayed.”
Audible groans throughout the boarding gate. Most people here are flying to Atlanta as a layover before another flight. 130 people just had their day become a complete mess.
The pilot goes on. “I get it, trust me. But here’s the deal: During our landing, we had a small mechanical issue. I’m not your pilot for the next leg, but I don’t feel confident the jet’s safe to fly until we have a mechanical team look it over, and I don’t feel comfortable asking the next pilots to fly you guys until we get confirmation.”
He points at the agents next to him behind the counter: “Now, none of this is the agents’ fault. Please be kind to them. I’m the one who made this decision, not them, so any inconvenience you experience is my fault. Just please know that I don’t do this lightly, and I’m only doing it because I believe it’s in the best interests of everyone’s safety.”
Now this is where the story gets crazy. The pilot puts the microphone down, grabs his suitcase, and all the people in the gate…
Start clapping.
I’m not joking, everyone starts clapping for the guy. 130 people who just had their travel plans ruined give an ovation to the guy who made the decision and delivered the message.
All because he addressed them with decency and transparency, took ownership of the decision, made it clear that it was necessary, and explained why it was in everyone’s best interest.
It’s honestly one of the best examples of strong communication—of strong leadership, for that matter—that I’ve seen in a long time.
@Delta, whoever your Atlanta to Wichita pilot was this morning, he’s one of the good ones. Please tell him the delayed passengers of flight 1637 appreciate what he did.
Tip: Make sure you know your Apple ID password (without looking at your phone), especially if you restore your phone. I had to restore my IPhone, did not know Apple ID password, and was essentially locked out of my phone for 2 weeks due to apple security restrictions #Painful
Happy retirement to our colleague @LanceMynderse whose career of service to generations of @MayoUrology patients & trainees reminds us how real impact is measured. Happy memories of when he received the @MNUrological Utz Award for lifetime achievement in 2023. Congratulations! 🥂
Man…I’m just really freakin happy for Sam Darnold. We were in Arizona for his loss to the Rams last year—to go from that to this, and from castoff to the Super Bowl.
What an incredible journey. What a game. What a moment for him.
Thirty Years of Ortho: What I’d Tell the Next Generation
I’ve been an orthopedic surgeon for three decades. Long enough to see techniques come and go, implants rise and fall, and the pendulum of “standard practice” swing back and forth more times than I can count.
What hasn’t changed are the pressures that come with the job… and the quiet lessons you don’t fully understand until you’ve liv,ed them.
If I were talking to the next generation—residents, fellows, the young attendings just getting their legs under them… this is what I’d tell them.
You can’t build a meaningful career on RVUs. You can meet every target and still feel empty. A career that lasts is built on trust, judgment, and relationships. You don’t measure that in productivity metrics.
A good surgeon listens more than they talk. People think surgery is a technical field, but the real work is in understanding what someone is actually asking of you. Most patients are just scared. They don’t need your scalpel, no matter what the MRI shows. Half the mistakes in this profession start with bad listening.
Master the anatomy. Master the craft. But learn the limits too. Early in your career, you’re focused on what you can do. With experience, you start to appreciate what you shouldn’t do. Judgment is a superpower.
Protect your time, or the system will take every minute you allow it to.
Learn to say no!!! There’s no shortage of demands. Notes. Inboxes. Meetings. Every one of them feels urgent. Some of you might actually feel important when you go to meetings... But... None of them is worth sacrificing your sanity or the people waiting for you at home.
Seek colleagues, not titles. Promotions and committee seats feel important for a season, but it’s just fluff, and nothing gets accomplished in those meetings anyway.
Your strength matters more than you realize. Not your technical strength—your physical and emotional strength. You can’t take care of people if your own health fades. Move, lift, sleep, and protect your energy. A worn-out surgeon becomes brittle.
Be the doctor you’d want for your family.
You need a life outside the operating room if you want a long life inside it. The surgeons who last aren’t the ones who work the most—they’re the ones who stay grounded. They have people they care about, interests that pull them away from medicine, and enough perspective to know that identity and work are not the same thing.
Thirty years in, the operations are only part of the story. What keeps you going is the purpose behind the work—helping people move, reassuring them when they’re scared, giving them back pieces of their life.
That’s the part that never gets old.
The Urology community lost one of the most incredible gems of a human being I've ever met.
I remember so many salient things about Brian @cancerdrlane
I will recount just a couple here.
He was a chief resident at Cleveland Clinic when I came in as a fellow. We spent hundreds of hours shoulder to shoulder doing laparoscopy together in 2007/2008. He never seemed like a resident.
I'm confident I learned far more from him than he ever did from me. But if he heard me say that, he would grin that giant grin and laugh and slap me on the back and make me believe that it was the opposite (to make me feel better). That's just the kind of guy he was.
I can tell you he was exceptional and brilliant. He had exhaustive and accurate knowledge of the literature and always had the right take.
A few years later we were both on a renal cell carcinoma plenary panel moderated by Steve Campbell.
For weeks leading up to that plenary, I sweated over it. I reviewed the literature. I reviewed what questions would be asked and thought carefully about what my answers might be. And I rehearsed ad nauseum.
I showed up an hour before in the empty auditorium adjacent to the session and pored through my notes.
Brian showed up one minute before the plenary and we were talking backstage. He gave me a hug hello. And I sort of asked him out of curiosity what he did to prepare for the plenary panel. He looked at me quizzically and said, "Prepare? Nothing."
Again with the infectious smile.
And he was absolutely serious. Why would he prepare? He knew everything like the back of his hand and could come up with the most eloquent, cogent and accurate answer to any clinical scenario on the fly. To Brian it was a strange concept to prepare for something like that. I'll never forget it.
Behind all of his deep knowledge and technical prowess, he was relentlessly optimistic and positive and complimentary. At the MUSIC meeting last year we were chatting near the coffee in the back of the room, and I asked him how he was doing with his health issues. All he ever responded back with was relentless optimism and gratitude. I told him I think about him often, and I'm so glad I didn't keep that sentiment to myself.
You'll never be forgotten, Brian, by anyone who ever crossed your path. 🕊️
My 16 yr old son’s school has a new rule that each student must turn in their phones every morning and they get it back at the end of the day. The first 9 days of school he hasn’t failed any quizzes which he has been known to do and he says really good things about school which he has never been known to do. Fascinating social experiment if you ask me.
@uretericbud@cancerdrlane Incredibly sad to hear. He was such a brilliant mind and could not have been a nicer person. I used to love sitting in the back of a poster/podium session and chatting with him about research ideas. In fact, this is where we came up with “every minute counts”. RIP Dr. Lane
Learned the awful news today that @cancerdrlane has passed.
A gentleman, a scholar, and a hellava surgeon.
Read your papers religiously, and always made sure to listen when you spoke up at meetings - ideas always sharp and perspectives always insightful.
Your career was remarkable. Your dedication to family unmatched. The grace with which you faced an awful disease was an inspiration.
The world lost a gem of a human.
Rest in peace, friend.