Profile: Dr. Bob Moran
IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE?
By Karen Robertson
Bob Moran will tell you he’s the luckiest man around. And if you ask to see his trophies, he’ll direct your attention to a family photo hanging over the fireplace of him, his wife Julie, their four children, and twelve grandchildren. In spite of a brilliant career as a noted surgeon, his wife and family are his most prized treasures. He tears up at the mere mention of how much they mean to him.
He hasn’t always led a life of leisure. Bob’s earned that position with years of service to his patients. He marvels, “I wasn’t even born in a hospital, and yet I spent my life in hospitals.”
Born in a farmhouse in Avon, New York, Bob grew up riding horses and participating in jumping and fox hunts. The Berry Plan afforded him the opportunity to finish college before entering the service. Through some interesting twists and turns, Bob graduated from Notre Dame with a Bachelor of Science and attended medical school at the University of Buffalo.
He went to Georgetown to do his internship, married Julie, and started work. “The first week I went to work on Tuesday and didn’t get home until Friday.” Bob was afraid he’d never see his new wife so he helped her get a job in the pharmacy in his hospital and they thrived. The doctors there were the first to research and promote external heart massage, which has morphed into today’s CPR.
From there, the family moved to Buffalo where Bob trained in general surgery. Unlike today’s specialized surgeons, his general surgery training included every part of the body ― from bones to bladders and heads to toenails.
With two children and another on the way, Bob joined the Navy. “Our basic training consisted of two weeks of learning how to wear the uniform and who to salute and few other details.” Soon he was off on a carrier to Vietnam for eight months and finished his service in North Carolina with the Marines. The family was reunited, everyone was happy, and Bob began playing golf. That stint afforded him the opportunity to operate on children, women, and men in a variety of cases that gave him vast experience.
In 1968, Bob was board certified and returned to the University of Buffalo to do surgery and instruct other upcoming surgeons. In 1977, at age 42, Bob moved Julie and their four children to Fullerton, CA. He joined a practice with an established doctor; however, within ten months he opened his own office and was an immediate success.
In 1986, Bob founded the National Ambulatory Hernia Institute and published information about the latest hernia repair procedure. Event after his retirement in 2000, NAHI continues to be one of the leading hernia centers with over 150 surgeries a month.
Bob and Julie moved to Bear Creek in 1999, where they had been involved as founders since 1983 when the property was bought from Arco. He says he’s still “a non-working referral doctor at Bear Creek.” Retirement suits Bob. He loves not having the phone ring and being able to sleep through the night. Since retirement they have put 75,000 miles on their motor home in a quest to enjoy North America from all angles.
Bob and Julie have enjoyed 49 years of marriage. He calls himself a stubborn Irishman, but described his kids as kind, persistent, and like their mother. When asked what he’d like people to say about him when his life is finished, he said, “He was married to a nice lady.”
With two kids graduated from Stanford and two from Notre Dame, three golf tournament trophies, and a great medical career, he is pretty humble and it wasn’t all because of luck. Bob Moran is a determined, principled man who worked hard, saved lives, and is enjoying the fruits of his labors.
OLD DOGS CAN LEARN NEW TRICKS, BUT IT AIN’T EASY (The Terms of Technology)
Does anybody besides me wish they had a resident IT guy to solve computer problems? I just bought a new laptop. For someone my age, this is equal to taking the pilot’s seat of a Boeing 747.
At first attempt, I couldn’t get on the Internet. Total frustration. In lieu of throwing the darn thing out the window, I took it outside, set it on the garbage can and stole the neighbor’s wireless signal. It worked, but the stench of my outdoor office is distracting.
It must be my router, so I called the company. After waiting thirty- nine minutes listening to the recorded voice tell me to try their website for tech support, I decide to try their website for tech support.
Step one, I need the model and serial numbers. Huh? The router box is behind the computer tower; beside the basket I turned upside down to cover the surge protector, topped by a potted plant.
All I have to do is get into the yoga position called Downward Dog to get to the router, turn it upside down and read the numbers that are the size of fly specks. When the blood rushes to my head and I see stars, I decide to retreat and get help ― a flashlight and magnifying glass.
I execute again the Downward Dog, being careful not to fall in the potted plant. With flashlight in my right armpit, magnifying glass in the left hand, I balance on my right fingertips.
I’m no spring chicken, so this pose has a limited life-span. It’s impossible to get close enough to see through the right part of my tri-focals. I can’t tell a 5 from a 6, a D from an 0, or remember more than 3 digits at a time.
After 10 Downward Dogs, I’m exhausted. But I am actually jubilant! I’ve accomplished step one!! I have the numbers!
I’ll take a nap. Step two can wait until tomorrow. After all, who am I trying to impress?
Karen Robertson, local writer and comedian, recently appeared at the Hollywood Improv with her standup bit, Retirement isn’t What it’s Cracked up to Be.