- Two of Us
- National
- Good Weekend
This was published 1 year ago
His trumpet solo for nurse Petula showed trainee doc Albert fancied her
By Lenny Ann Low
Dr Albert Shun, 72, Australia’s first paediatric transplant surgeon, has saved the lives of more than 500 young people during his 45-year career. He credits his wife Petula, 68, a former nurse, for making him a better person.
Albert: I first met Petula in Darwin in 1980. She was a medical ward nurse from Ireland and I was on rotation from [Sydney’s] Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. One day, I walked into the ward at the Old Darwin Hospital to consult on a patient and Petula saw me. She said, “You’re not allowed in here. Now, get out.” It was during the patients’ afternoon rest period and no one was allowed in. She was pretty bossy.
I didn’t see her again until I organised a fishing trip. One of the group got sick, so Petula took their place. She said to me, “I can’t swim.” There we were, out at sea off the Darwin coast, so I said, “It’s okay. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
I think you know when you’ve met your future partner and, as soon as I met Petula, I felt something different. I said to myself, “This is the girl I’m going to marry”. Then I realised she was the nurse who’d kicked me off the ward.
To make sure she knew I was interested, I serenaded her with my trumpet. I stood outside the hospital nursing block and played Danny Boy. She saw me out the window and came down straight away to shut me up.
When Petula first came to Australia, she was shocked. She had a strong Irish accent and people couldn’t understand her. One day, after working a night shift, she walked into the kitchen and a possum ran out in front of her. She thought it was a huge rat.
We started dating; I think her family was worried initially. An interracial marriage wasn’t the done thing in those days, particularly in Edgeworthstown, her small hometown in [County Longford] Ireland. Once they’d met me, it was okay, though.
Petula’s a very open person, very logical, pragmatic and intelligent. She can always see the big picture. When we started thinking about having a family [after settling in Sydney’s inner west], we talked about what was important to us. We thought, we can be poor and happy with children or we can not have them and be fairly comfortable – rich, even. It was a joint decision. Petula stopped working. The demands of my job meant it was impossible for us both to keep our jobs and have a family.
“I wouldn’t be where I am now without her sacrificing her career.”
Albert Shun
Back in 1983 in Australia, transplant surgery was poorly regarded. The medical journals said it wouldn’t work in children because of the immunosuppression: they said they wouldn’t grow, they wouldn’t prosper as adults. But thank goodness we proved them wrong. Giving someone a second chance in life is the greatest gift you can bestow. But it was very hard for Petula. She was alone a lot of the time raising our four children. I wouldn’t be where I am now without her sacrificing her career. We wouldn’t have the family that we have now.
Now, in retirement, she’s signed me up to play croquet. She’s the local club’s captain. We’re planning trips. She hates camping – I quite like it – so we do walks. I’m forever grateful to her; she’s made me a better person.
Petula: There are very few people whom I trust. I trust my ability to read people and usually make a decision about a person within 10 seconds. I’m generally right. When Albert walked onto that ward in Darwin, he was a registrar and there with his boss. I had no time for surgeons who come in and want things done immediately – so I said, “Wait.” I didn’t expect him to wait, but he did. And I could see straight off that he really cared about the patients.
I caught the biggest fish on that fishing trip. A huge red emperor. Albert couldn’t get over the fact that somebody couldn’t swim. I still don’t swim – but all our kids do.
We got to know each other a bit, and then he goes and annoys me by playing his trumpet outside my room. What normal person does that? He thought it’d be fun and it was. But, at the time, it was also embarrassing.
The first date we had, he didn’t turn up. We were all living in the hospital village and he sent a nurse over to say he had a surgery. He turned up much later, but I knew by then what he was like. Work would always be number one.
In 1980, when I was 23, Dad had a heart attack and nearly died. I’d been away from home for 18 months. Nobody had phones. But, because Albert was a registrar and on call 24/7, he had a phone. He let me use it to call home and see what was going on. It was very kind.
I’d had boyfriends before, but I didn’t trust them at all. With Albert, I just knew. He’s just an incredibly nice man. I can’t explain it any better. He made me laugh a lot when we met because he didn’t get me at all. He’s very straight down the line, very literal, and I’m not. He’s not a public person at all.
“With Albert, I just knew. He’s just an incredibly nice man. I can’t explain it any better.”
Petula Shun
For more than 20 years, Albert was the only paediatric surgeon doing liver transplants. But what people don’t seem to appreciate is it’s not just about the actual operation. Every day, for 30 years of his working life – except when we had a holiday – he went into the children’s hospital [at Camperdown in the earlier years and later, Westmead]. He worked, on average, between 60 to 100 hours a week. Me not working was the right decision to make. I don’t regret it.
I remember one time, we’re married, I’ve got four kids, and we’ve been living in the same house, just three streets from here, for 10 years. And Albert’s outside mowing the lawn in the front. The neighbour two houses up walks down. She says, “Do you do the back?” He says, “Yes.” And she says, “How much do you charge?” He says, “No, I live here.” And she says, “No, you don’t. The Irish girl with the three boys and the little girl lives here.” He just wasn’t around. He didn’t have time for anything else. It was work and us.
Every activity he does, he does 100 per cent. He’s like a mountain goat. Up hills, whoosh. He has joy in everything he does. And that makes him different from anybody else. Like I said, I don’t trust people. But I trust Albert.
To read more from Good Weekend magazine, visit our page at The Sydney Morning Herald, The Age and Brisbane Times.