By Dr. Marc Pelletier

CHUCK PAINTER/STANFORD NEWS SERVICE Norman Shumway, M.D., PhD., is considered the father of heart transplantation. Shumway, left, and Dr. Donald Harrison hold a news conference after the first successful U.S. heart transplant in 1968. The recipient, steel worker Mike Kasperak, lived for 14 days.

“Is this legal?”

“I think so. Time will tell.”

So went the conversation 38 years ago, when a young surgeon, Dr. Ed Stinson, stood across the operating table from Dr. Norman Shumway in Stanford University Hospital. The event was a monumental one - the first human heart transplant in the United States. The pioneering surgeons stood only inches apart, separated by a sleeping patient whose heart had been completely removed. The unusual sight of an empty chest cavity led Stinson to question the procedure.

Not only did the procedure prove to be legal but it also ushered cardiac surgery in to a new era. Nearly 70,000 heart transplants have been performed since, prolonging the lives of recipients.

Shumway died Feb. 10, only one day after turning 83. His daily walks through the Department of Cardiothoracic Surgery at Stanford University, which occurred routinely until just a few months before his death, are no more. While many physicians enjoy distinguished and fulfilling careers, it is difficult to imagine a single person impacting his or her specialty in a more positive way.

On a gray and windy day in late March, hundreds

of people gathered at Stanford Memorial Church to pay their respects to one of the most beloved surgeons the world will ever know. Nurses to patients to past trainees told stories of a man whose personality, more than anything he did surgically, will define his legacy.

In a world of serious medicine, Shumway was a comical star. In the ’60s and ’70s, cardiac surgery was in its infancy. Complication rates were high and valiant efforts to save patients often failed. The highs were high and the lows were very low. It was in those moments that Shumway’s humor would shine. Through quick-witted quips, he had a way of making people smile during their darkest hours. His snappy phrases became sayings, often repeated by students who will never enjoy watching and listening to the affectionately dubbed “Old man.”

He said of arrogant doctors, “He’s incarcerated by his own ego.” Of patients who recovered exceptionally well from surgery, “Maybe he didn’t need the operation.” And of seeing interns and residents despair after a difficult operation, a pat on the back would be followed by, “Don’t worry, boys. Things are never so bad that they can’t get worse.”

His rapidity and quirkiness would put a smile on most people’s faces. It was his way of saying, “I know you’re working hard and I know you’re sad. Just keep up the good work, and good things will happen.”

Stanford lost a true leader when Shumway passed away. On the medical side, he has left behind a legacy of well-trained and devoted cardiothoracic and transplant surgeons, including U.S. Sen. Bill Frist of Tennessee and Dr. Bruce Reitz, former chairman of Stanford’s Cardiothoracic Surgery Department, who performed the world’s first human heart-lung transplant.

At the memorial service, Johns Hopkins University President William R. Brody fondly presented the eulogy for a man who was both humble and self-deprecating.

When prodded by reporters, Shumway described himself as “not the world’s best surgeon, but perhaps the best first assistant.” Instead of accepting the glory of his achievements, he deflected praise onto his team.

Webster’s dictionary defines a role model as, “Someone worthy of imitation. A person whose behavior in a particular role is imitated by others.” I remember Dr. Norman Shumway as a true role model, a surgeon and a person who will always be worthy of imitation.