Ingram's October 2023

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LARRY CORUM Olathe Health/University of Kansas Health System Law, not medicine, was the first inclination when Larry Corum was pondering the contours of a career. “I was a bit of a late-comer to medicine and was initially on a criminal justice path in college,” he says. “After taking a few biology courses, however, I was drawn into the world of biology, physiology, biochemistry, etc. Then the deci sion was: teach or go to med school?” The Lee’s Summit native had no family members working in health care to directly influence his

SEAN KUMER The University of Kansas Health System

The gauntlet, if you will, was thrown down at the feet of Sean Kumer by the chief resident after he’d finished medical school and started his rotations. “He told me that if you like anything the same as or better than surgery, do it because surgery was very difficult.” Challenge accepted: “I loved every rotation, but just liked surgery a bit better,” he says. But there’s surgery, and there’s the next-level surgery of transplantation. That’s where Kumer makes his impact on the region’s biggest academic medical center, as program director for the transplant surgery fellowship and as surgical director of liver transplantation. His interest in that field also goes back to his training at the University of Michigan Medical School. There, working in general surgery, he says, “I was ex

decision, but the guidance of his stepfather would prove decisive. “Nearly all the males in my fam ily are, or have been, plumbers,” Corum says. “My stepfather, who was also a plumber, got me inter ested in academic things—words, language, ideas. I later found bi ology and human physiology and was drawn in from there.” So, while the route to medicine wasn’t entirely unexpected, the final des tination was. “Oncology took me by surprise,” Corum says. “In my

posed to some pretty academic and hard-working surgeons and saw great, complex cases. I was drawn to transplant be cause it was both technically and mentally challenging, as well as physically challenging. I liked that demand.” While on staff at the University of Vir ginia Medical Center, he was recruited to the health system here in 2011 and took that leap, he says because he “saw the opportunities for personal and

oncology rotations, I encountered patients who were dealing with the most weighty and profound issues they had ever encountered, and the emotional piece of that was—and it may seem strange— very appealing to me.” One reason for that was the advance in the understanding of molecular biology, Corum says, followed shortly thereafter by designer drugs for treatment. “Now, over the past 15 20 years, we have seen a real revolution in the approach to cancer and cancer therapy that has resulted in major gains in quality of life and survival, with cure in many cases,” he says. High marks during his education and training, including his fellowship at Van derbilt University Medical Center, could have punched his ticket anywhere, but “I returned to KC because I wanted to be near family and because it felt most like home,” Corum says. “The Midwest is a special place, and I’m happy most coast-dwellers are unaware.” For most of his career, Olathe Health was home, but the recent acquisition by The University of Kansas Health System means he’s part of a larger center of excellence in cancer treatment. “It’s an indescribable high to help someone navigate and escape cancer,” Corum says. “There’s a deep emotional bond that is forged over the years from diagnosis through treatment and long-term sur veillance and, eventually, release from the oncology clinic.” The flip side of that are the unfortunate outcomes where the cancer is too advanced or aggressive. “Early in my career, I often had family members thank me for the care I had given to a patient who had, ultimately, died,” he says. “There were times I felt like a failure and undeserving of their praise. I later understood that the connections made and the sincere effort—sometimes in the face of insurmount able odds—were the crucial pieces. They knew that a full life is promised to none of us, and we can only make the best decisions possible at each juncture. So, we march forward — celebrating the victories and mourning the losses—recognizing that the victories are coming more and more often as the science advances.”

professional growth. I felt like the health system had priori ties that matched mine in terms of patient outcomes, quality and safety, putting patients at the center of everything you do. That meshed well with me and my values.” In one of the most demanding surgical niches, he’s been witness to impressive advances in both tools and techniques. In addition, he says, “anti-rejection drugs have improved significantly, and with the cancer part, the chemotherapy has improved greatly.” All of those factors, he says, have helped improve outcomes for patients who are often in dire situations. “People who come to you in the clinic are scared; they need help,” he says. “Whether that’s for transplantation, whether it’s for cancer they have, they’re hoping you can shepherd them through unknown territory. When you’re able to accomplish that, able to make people feel comfortable and confident in their care— at the end of it, there’s no greater feeling than when someone simply says thank you. When you get them through all their transplant and care, it’s just a great feeling—like hitting that one perfect golf shot.” It’s a great feeling on the other end of that relationship, as well. “I’ve had opportunities where someone 10 years out will see me out in society, and they’ll say, ‘I don’t know if you remember me, but you saved my life.” I’ve saved every one of the notes I get from my patients like that, and when they come across your desk or come from a family member who thanks you for the life of their husband, wife, father, or brother … those are really touching.”

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October 2023

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