Hey, Bruce!” I exclaimed with surprise, a big smile on my face as I bumped into him in the hospital corridor during my rounds. At 6 feet 2 inches, he was hard to miss. He had a square frame upon which his broad shoulders rested. His brown French beard made its presence felt over his fair complexion. Even though he had a tough exterior, he had the kind of face that if you saw the first thing in the morning, your day went well.

“It’s so lovely to see you, buddy,” I said to all of his 72 years and all of his 72 hairs. He had been born in Zimbabwe, and after having lived on a few continents in his younger years, he had decided to settle down in a quaint town in southern Africa. “What brings you back to us?” I enquired. My orthopaedic colleague Dr Mudit Khanna had done a knee replacement on him a few years ago with such astounding success that from not being able to walk a few steps, he was cycling 30 km every day. I knew him well because when Mudit and I went to his country on a work visit, he took us both for a four-hour cycle ride in the bush, where lions roared not very far from us.