As long as we are miles from whatever topic we started on here, I'll chip in: I used to work with a surgeon named Dr. Grimm. Yes, Grimm. The poor beggar was aptly named, and his moniker seemed to apply to his patients as well.
Nicest guy you ever wanted to meet, and good surgeon--hell, he had to be, because it seemed every night we were on call at the same time we'd wind up doing middle-of-the-night surgery on some unfortunate very elderly, very sick person whose colon had exploded or whose gallbladder had turned gangrenous. With me up at the head of the table dialing in the anesthetic gases, pumping in IV fluids with both hands, and praying for some blood pressure to appear from somewhere, anywhere, good ol' Dr. Grimm labored to extirpate the bit of traitorous tissue at the heart of the matter. Enough to make you old....
Memories...As I frequently note, my worst days wearing my photographer's hat beat many such days as an anesthesiologist!