Page 32 of The Callahan Effect

He shovelled a mouthful into his mouth and moaned.

"I can already tell this was the right choice."

I smiled before picking up my fork.

The first few minutes passed in companionable silence as we concentrated on our meals. Around us, lunchtime conversations blended into a pleasant background murmur, occasionally interrupted by the clink of cutlery against plates or laughter drifting across the room. Outside, another pleasure boat eased along the river, its passengers waving toward children feeding ducks from the riverside path. The relaxed atmosphere made it easy to forget we still had a late afternoon video session waiting for us back at the arena.

Mason laid his fork down.

"So how do you handle clinical placements?"

Preparation. Lots of it.

He watched me type.

Most patients know before I walk into the room that I'm mute. My supervising doctors explain it first, and I always introduce myself with my phone. Once people realize I understand everything they're telling me and I'm listening properly, they relax surprisingly quickly.

His attention never left the screen.

In the operating room it's even easier than most people expect. Everyone communicates with hand signals, eye contact, and established routines. The surgical team knows how I work, and I know how they work. We adapt to complement each other's strengths and weaknesses. That's what medicine is supposed to do.

Mason sat back, genuine admiration filling his expression.

"I never thought about it like that."

Neither did most people.

He remained quiet before asking the question I knew would eventually come.

"So why ENT?"

I considered the question.

There were dozens of answers I could have given…

I enjoyed the precision of microsurgery.

I found the anatomy fascinating.

The specialty combined medicine with delicate reconstructive procedures.

Every one of those answers was true.

None of them explained the reason my heart had settled on otolaryngology years ago.

My thumbs moved slowly across the keyboard.

I love everything about the specialty. The surgery, the patients, the complexity...it just feels right.

It wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the entire truth. Fortunately, Mason seemed content to accept the answer.

Neither of us noticed more than an hour had passed. Eventually the empty plates were cleared away, and we wandered down to the riverside walkway. Cyclists glided along the paved path, couples strolled beneath the cottonwoods, and the ducks we'd watched earlier were still drifting close to the reeds with their ducklings paddling faithfully behind them. The river flowed past with the same steadiness it had when we'd arrived, inviting us to slow our pace and enjoy the afternoon a little longer.

Mason slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans as we strolled beside the river, neither of us in any particular hurry to return to campus.

"It's beautiful here."

One of my favorite places to think.