I met Shaun in 1993 when we were radiology residents at USC. Shaun was a year ahead of me in the program. I started my first Interventional Radiology (or IR) rotation and by random chance, Shaun was my senior resident. The way our residency program was set up, the junior resident (me) learned primarily from the senior resident (Shaun).
Shaun and I worked together every day on the IR service for two months. It became clear to me that Shaun knew an awful lot about IR; it was common knowledge amongst the residents that he was going to specialize in IR. Of course, I didn’t know the half of it at that time; all I knew was that he was my senior and I did what he told me to do.
After a month had passed, Shaun and I were having breakfast, as was our custom, in the DDR. It sounds glamorous, but unless you consider industrial sized cans of Sysco tuna in a luke warm cooler “glamorous,” then you’d be disappointed. Anyway, Shaun asked me, “Alright Big Guy, what do you think of IR?” He was effectively asking me: is IR a subspecialty of radiology that you like and might pursue as a career?
Now when I started my residency I had no idea that IR even existed. So I very honest with Shaun when I answered that I was really excited about IR, and I was seriously thinking about subspecializing in IR.
As long as I live, I’ll never forget Shaun’s reaction. He stopped eating, put down his fork, he looked at me, gave me the classic SS skeptical look, and said “I don’t think you have the moxie.”
Now there are two elements of this that I want to elaborate on. First, Shaun had a deep love and respect for language. Shaun was meticulous and precise in his writing and his diction. He was gifted in that way. He was a word puzzle savant. And I say this not just because he used words like moxie. Shaun knew that Moxie originated as a 19th century patent medication that supposedly gave you resolve and determination. He loved the origin story, the history of language. I think his love of language showed up his music too- I know that Shaun Quixote loved composing a clever turn of phrase. Shaun was a true polymath who delighted using language that tickled his unique fancy.
Here’s the second element: when I tell other IRs this story, the joke is ironic: In other words, how ridiculously WRONG Samuels was about Ryu not having Moxie?! Now just like Shaun, I’ve built a little bit of notoriety (or cred) in our specialty: I’ve written a few papers, trained some fellows, and made my clinical reputation in a well known institution). So other IRs laugh at the ridiculousness of it, as if I didn’t have moxie.
But here’s the thing, Shaun was absolutely right. I was an ignorant, arrogant junior resident who knew absolutely nothing about a specialty that Shaun knew extremely well and loved deeply his whole life. I can say, without being hyperbolic, that Shaun as a resident knew more about IR than some of our IR attendings. After all, Shaun was granted TWO patents while he was a resident (one which only had six references, which is a remarkable achievement for any inventor).
So Shaun was assessing me through the lens of his own expertise, and seeing a dilletante (another word Shaun loved) with absolutely no idea about anything, saying, “Oh yeah- IR is fun. I think I’ll be an IR!”
In that moment, Shaun did what he always did (and why I loved him): he told the truth. He didn’t try to soft peddle it. He called it like he saw he: the fact is, I didn’t have the moxie. He spoke the truth without compromise or varnish.
And I think we can all agree that In this day and age, when the truth has somehow become a negotiable or transient concept, we need MORE people with Shaun’s integrity, not less. For this and many other reasons, our world is a lesser place without him.
Shaun was my brother. I love him. I miss him. And I thank all of you for letting me share this story.
(NB: this is a modified version of an original post- something I said I wouldn't do, but there you go)