Training is a tunnel – the tasks ahead are emphasised, and the view out the window is ignored. I have not been in a rush to get my FRACS, but my weekend away reminded me to look around. I attended our local general surgeons annual conference, and this year emphasised the spectrum of our training more than most.

The conference was in Darwin, and well-attended by rural and remote surgeons. Darwin is also the base of a lot of our national outreach trauma services – the hospital that treats casualties from rebel uprisings in Timor, explosions in refugee ships, and bombings in south east asia. I met amazing people. Surgeons who deal with neurotrauma because the nearest neurosurgeon is 1500km away. Surgeons who are familiar with major skin and muscle flaps, because major soft tissue wounds are not uncommon. Surgeons who work in barbed wire compounds because the towns are too violent. Surgeons who know how to put up a mobile hospital. Surgeons who have operated using a torch for lighting. Also, surgeons who found themselves suddenly dealing with disasters in their safe towns: Darwin (Cyclone Tracy), Cairns (Cyclone Yasi) and Christchurch (Christchurch Earthquakes).

The people, who are confident to deal with what they are handed, are truly general surgeons. Could my training let me develop that confidence. Probably, if I choose.

As well as looking out into the future, the conference reminded me to enjoy the present. I attended dinners and dances. I danced with surgeons, administrators and trainees. I introduced myself to people with influence, in breaks between Stevie Wonder and Jason Mraz. I sweated, discussed Harry Potter, and laughed at male trainees’ reluctance to appear silly. I had fun.

The benefits of attending a surgical conference as a trainee are hard to measure, but today I am fired up, motivated, despite the fatigue. And if, like a friend, I end up being examined for my fellowship by people I have met on a dance floor, surely that can’t be a bad thing.