Charting a Life Beyond Surgery
My name is Scott Petersen. I was a resident at the University of Utah Surgery Program from 1975-1979 with a few stops in between. I was born and raised in Salt Lake City. My undergraduate education and medical school were at the University of Utah. I graduated from the University of Utah School of Medicine in 1974. As a junior medical student, I was assigned to Dr. Frank Moody's Surgical Service. He was instrumental in my obtaining a surgical residency at UC-San Francisco.
One of my first rotations as an intern was on the Trauma Service at the San Francisco General Hospital. My mentors were some of the icons in trauma surgery at the time (F. William Blaisdell, Donald Trunkey, George Sheldon, Frank Lewis). Despite the long hours and hard work, I loved it. At the time, J. Englebert Dunphy was the retiring chairman of the department and many of the faculty were jumping ship to move on to positions elsewhere. To say the least, it was a little disconcerting for a naive, young intern to learn about all the politics. In the early spring of our internship year, a friend from my class in medical school, Dr. Edward Nelson and his wife came to visit us in San Francisco. We were both lamenting about our unhappiness with our respective programs and how they compared to Utah (Ed and I graduated in the same class at Utah). Then came a proposal, "If you go back, I'll go back." I don't remember which one of us initiated the challenge, but wine could have been involved.
We each called Brian Rasmussen, the Residency Program Director at the time, who offered both of us first year resident positions (PGY-2). My first rotation when I returned to Utah was again on Dr. Moody's Service. Dr. James Goodnight was the Chief Resident. It was a magical time to be training at the UUMC. Many of the junior faculty and contemporary residents at the time became stalwarts in American surgery.
- James E. Goodnight, Chair of Surgery, UC-Davis
- Larry Cheung, Chair of Surgery, University of Kansas
- Bing Rikkers, Chair of Surgery, University of Nebraska, University of Wisconsin
- Nathaniel Matolo, Chair of Surgery, UC-Stockton
- Glenn G. Warden, Chair of Shriners Burn Center, University of Cincinnati
- Byers Shaw, Chair, University of Nebraska
- Stephen Lowery, Chair of Surgery, UMDNJ
Dr. Moody encouraged residents to become interested in research, which he termed, gaining “New Knowledge.” After my 3rd year, with his support, I returned to San Francisco General Hospital for an NIH Fellowship in Trauma and Burns under the mentorship of George F. Sheldon. The Fellowship was a spectacular learning experience. It helped me understand statistical analysis, develop a working animal model for parenteral nutritional support, and write my first research proposals and manuscripts. After the year was over, I returned to the University of Utah residency. Dr. Moody wanted me to begin my Chief year with my other contemporaries, but I finagled an additional six-months of Burns-Transplants (the services were combined at that time) and Gastroenterology (to learn endoscopy). My Chief Residency was unique. I started as a chief resident on January 1, 1979. I spent six-months at the VA and six-months at the University. On December 31, 1979, I was attending a New Year’s Eve party for residents and faculty. Just before midnight, a call came to Glenn Warden, my new, soon-to-be partner. He said with a smile, “Go get ‘em, kid!” He and Norrie drove my wife home, while I resuscitated a new burn patient.
After two years on the faculty, I was becoming a burn specialist, which was not what I had envisioned for my career. My real love was trauma, so after a brief stint in Honolulu, I accepted an offer to become a trauma director in Phoenix, Arizona. At the time, Phoenix was the largest city in the nation without a medical school. There were four “Trauma Centers,” a fledgling trauma system and a very active “knife and gun club.” A trauma surgeon’s dream! In 1993, after lots of travail, our hospital, St. Joseph’s Hospital and Medical Center, became the first facility in Arizona to become an ACS-verified Level I Trauma Center. I remember telling my wife, Libby, shortly after we moved to Phoenix that I was done with academic surgery. She said, “No you’re not, it will just be different.” She was so right. We developed an NIH-funded research program in surgical metabolism under the direction of Malayapa Jeevanandam, PhD; an ACS TQIP recognition for being one of the top five performing trauma centers in the country; and trained residents from the University of Nebraska (thanks, Bing Rikkers and Bud Shaw), Mayo Clinic-Scottsdale (thanks, Keith Kelly) and Good Samaritan Medical Center-Phoenix (thanks, H. Harlan Stone). When our institution affiliated with Creighton University College of Medicine in 2008, we started our own Surgical Residency of which I became the Program Director, in addition to being the Trauma Medical Director.
It was the beginning of my “exit” strategy. I stopped taking trauma call in the fall of 2015, hired a new Trauma Director and continued as Program Director and a Surgical Critical Care attending until I formally retired in June, 2018, at age 68.
THE RETIREMENT PLAN
Libby and I began planning for retirement early on. The initial goal was to retire at age 55 and we began saving in earnest. Then the IRS changed the amount of money my professional corporation could use to annually fund our pension plan, putting a damper on the approach. In the early 90’s, Libby and I went on a sailing trip with friends in the Windward Islands of the Caribbean. We both loved the experience. We decided to take sailing lessons in San Diego and soon we were chartering bareboats ourselves all over the Caribbean. We even went on a sailing trip in the Society Islands of Tahiti. After realizing how much money we were spending on charters, Libby suggested that we buy a boat. Another good idea. We decided that when I retired, we would sail around the world. We had a cruising sailboat, a Sundeer 56, built for us in Warren, Rhode Island. Many would think buying a boat is crazy, but to us it made sense. We took out a modest loan, Rhode Island eliminated sales tax for boats made and purchased in the state and the Federal luxury tax on boats over $100,000 was repealed in 1993. After sea trials, myself, two close sailing friends and my oldest son, Pete sailed “Sleepy Lady” from Newport, RI to Bermuda, then south to the Virgin Islands. For the next 19 years we used the British Virgin Islands as our home base. I took the month of June off every summer. Fortunately, I had understanding partners. I would bunch my trauma calls before and after the vacation. Honestly, I never experienced any “burn out” during my surgical career. Spending time sailing completely kept my mind off surgery. When you sail a 56-foot boat you have to be totally focused on the present, like when you are in the operating room. Once the anchor is set, you can relax. While waiting in the B.V.I. airport for our flight home, I deemed it was a “good vacation” if I had trouble remembering the names of my patients who were in the hospital when I left Phoenix. Our family spent most of our holidays on the boat and racked up a lot of frequent flyer miles.
LIFE THROWS YOU CURVEBALLS
Libby was diagnosed with an oropharyngeal carcinoma in 2009. During her initial work up, an incidental carcinoma was found in the distal esophagus. She underwent head and neck radiation / chemotherapy and subsequently had an esophagectomy. Although she could swallow liquids in sips, she never regained the ability to eat solid food and required a feeding jejunostomy for nutrition. One year after surgery, she had no evidence of disease. Sadly, six months later, a nodule was discovered in the RUL. The last time we were on the boat together was over the Christmas Holidays in 2011. By then, three of our children and grandchildren were in Utah (Lisa, Pete and Lee) and Breck, a commercial pilot based in Phoenix, was working that week. We took our golden retriever, Jaeger, with us. It was hard. We talked about inevitabilities. We each wrote down things that were important to us about our lives together in a journal. Then we shared them with each other. We cried, we laughed, we held each other. We didn’t sail much that trip. As she told me, “I just wanted to say goodbye.” Libby died at home on Mother’s Day, 2012 with her family around her.
It is said that “Bad-things come in threes.” My youngest son, Lee, died in a tragic way in 2019 (age 33). He never got over his mother’s death. In 2024, my oldest son, Pete, who developed Type I diabetes at one year of age, passed away at the UUMC of pneumocystis pneumonia (age 48), 18 years after a kidney-pancreas transplant.
LIFE GOES ON
The year after Libby died, I fell in love with a woman I had known for 10 years. She had been my trauma social worker at St. Joe’s. We both had grown children who had careers. We ran together every morning. We skied together. We rafted the Colorado River. We traveled to Paris, Barcelona and London. We both loved being outdoors.
Judy was born in New York City and grew up on Long Island. After several trips to NYC, we purchased a pied-à-terre in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Both of us were still working then, but we had begun our retirement. I sold the boat after we were married. Fortuitously, in 2019, we ordered a Ford Transit 4X4 van and had it upfitted in Fresno, CA. I picked it up from Sportsmobile in March, 2020 on the day that Governor Gavin Newsom closed down California due to the COVID pandemic. Our van was literally the “last van out” from the factory for the next four months. It became a sanctuary during COVID and we have used the van extensively since then, especially during the torrid Phoenix summers. Within two-hours from our home in Phoenix, we can be camping near Flagstaff at 8000 feet; in five hours we can be in the Arizona White Mountains at over 9000 feet. We’ve been to most of the National Parks in the West. Next summer’s plan is to go to Yosemite.
RETIREMENT
I was sitting in my dentist’s operatory in August, 2025. He was asking how my retirement was going and did I miss surgery. I said to him, “I’ve never looked back. I can’t believe I waited so long.” I had stopped paying dues to surgical societies. I gave up my Utah, California, and Hawaii medical licenses (I kept my Arizona license and DEA credentials). I only participate in one surgical meeting per year (Western Trauma Association Annual Meeting, most recently virtually, for CME and nostalgia) and donated my medical library and journals to the residency program.
As he is planning for retirement now, my dentist recommended Michael Stein’s book, The Prosperous Retirement. Stein talks about three stages of retirement: 1. Go-Go years, 2. Slow-Go years, 3. No-Go years. The book discusses the changing patterns of activity and spending throughout the retirement years. The Go-Go years are the early stages of retirement characterized by high activity levels, independence and increased spending on travel, hobbies, and social activities. The Slow-Go years are the years when health and energy begin to wane, leading to reduced activity and decreased expenses. The No-Go years are years typically related to significantly reduced mobility and activity and are associated with increased spending often focused on healthcare, in-home services and long-term care. To be honest, our Go-Go years began when Judy and I were still working. We made time for new adventures, especially after I stopped taking trauma call. Although we are still mentally and physically active (gym, walk, hike), our extracurricular pursuits have diminished. We are transitioning to the Slow-Go stage. Now when we travel, it is usually to visit family on holidays, graduations or birthdays. We are actively using the van to get outdoors and are planning a small ship cruise in Cost Rica in December of 2026 (trip insurance will be part of the package, just in case).
Proactively, we have realized we have to be adaptable and flexible in our plans and to anticipate changes in our health needs. It was helpful for me to create a sense of purpose beyond a surgical career. Working on the van, developing and executing new projects and troubleshooting issues for This Old House keep me busy. I have a “surgical mentality.” I like to fix things. Using my hands provides me with relaxation. For me it is meditation. One of my great joys during this stage of my life is reading. For 40 years during my professional career, I read mostly journals and medical texts. Now I read for pleasure: novels, history, biographies. If I had to do it over again, I would major in history in college instead of biology. One year I had a “winter of discontent” and read most of John Steinbeck’s works. Last year it was a “Dickens of a winter.” I read Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. I never finished it in high school. I think I got through English using Cliff’s Notes! I also read A Tale of Two Cities, David Copperfield and Oliver Twist. I have read Hemingway, everything about George Armstrong Custer and the Little Big Horn and historical biographies (U.S. Grant, George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, and Thomas Jefferson). I even read Tolstoy’s War and Peace and Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment.
Maintaining a positive attitude toward aging is important. Understanding my changing physical, mental and emotional needs has allowed me, preemptively, to make informed choices about activity, spending and living arrangements. I stopped riding my mountain bike, running and skiing this year. It was difficult to come to grips with these decisions, but I can still exercise, hike and take long walks.
TRANSITIONING THROUGH RETIREMENT
Obviously, retirement changes as you progress through it. We have tried to prioritize our health and lifestyle as we have gotten older. We sold the condo in Brooklyn and we keep close ties with our good friends and family. Judy has convinced me to declutter, so we started in our closets and have cleaned out the garage. The bikes, bike rack and ski gear will be going next. Downsizing from our mid-century home in Phoenix may well be forthcoming. Judy and I have had open discussions with our families about our future plans, desires and support as our needs evolve. We have also had frank dialogues concerning end of life issues including documenting our medical power of attorney, and DNR preferences when needed (and where these documents are stored). Finally, engaging in lifelong learning no matter the subject has always been important to me. It helps keep my mind active and aids in maintaining my cognition and the quality of my life as I age.
Retirement has been a wonderful, albeit transforming, time of my life. Embrace it and keep moving.
