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I remember when I was a young and budding doctor; people would look admiringly at my hands, smile knowingly, and say "you have the hands of a surgeon." This was a wonderful compliment; it generally meant you had elegant hands, long nimble fingers, and soft, unblemished skin. They were not heavy labourer's hands-surgeon's hands were for delicate work, they were for making art . . . or so I thought.
Yesterday, five years later, after I had finished operating for the day, I felt a twinge on the side of my right...