A few months after my exams, I attended the Singapore Orthopaedic Association Conference. The topic that year was sports surgery. Given that conference topics rotate every 8–10 years, it was remarkable providence that this theme appeared the very year I graduated.x Among the speakers was an Italian professor named Stefano Zaffagnini, who came to present his unique ACL reconstruction technique.
His presentation completely upended the way I thought about surgery.
He showed how he performed ACL reconstruction at one-tenth the cost of what we typically do in Singapore. Instead of using expensive implants, he used three simple staples. No fancy products, no brand promotions. Yet, his results were astonishing—validated by long-term studies spanning 10, 15, 20, even 25 years.
In today’s world, orthopaedic surgery can be very implant-driven. Much like how athletes are sponsored by Nike or Adidas, surgeons are often sponsored by implant companies. Conferences are filled with talks by surgeons promoting the implants they use, sometimes subtly, sometimes openly.
It reminded me of my running days—how easily one can be drawn into performance and sponsorship culture. You wear a brand, you get paid to talk about it, and you believe you’re doing something great. But underneath it all, there’s often pride, profit, and self-promotion.
So when this Italian professor stood there, presenting a method that stripped all of that away, it struck a deep chord. His work was simple, effective, and quietly brilliant.
Then came the next twist.
My boss told me, “Mok, I’m not free today. Can you bring this guy around?”
At that point, I wasn’t even thinking about fellowship. The thought of entertaining a visiting surgeon felt like a chore. But Bel happened to be free that day, so we went together.
And that was how we met Prof Zaffagnini over bubble tea at Koi.
He turned out to be humble, funny, and surprisingly open. We talked about medicine, running, even faith. He shared bits about his Catholic background and the brokenness in his past. It was more than a professional meeting—it was a human connection.
A Door Opens
Later that evening, during dinner, one of the senior surgeons in Singapore—someone quite respected, including Prof Denny Lie and Assoc Prof Paul Chang from SGH, Prof James Hui from NUH —casually said, “Stefano, this is Mok. He wants to go Italy for fellowship with you. Okay or not?”
Prof Zaffagnini smiled and said, “Okay.”
That was it. The entire path was set in motion. A door I never tried to open swung wide.
I remember thinking, This is so strange. Just weeks earlier, I didn’t want to go anywhere. And now, a single bubble-tea conversation had changed everything.
From that day onward, it felt as if every step of this journey was marked by God’s fingerprints.
The Home in Bologna
When it came time to find accommodation in Italy, I realised how difficult it was to communicate with landlords. Hardly anyone replied to our messages on their version of Property Guru.
Then, one day, my boss asked me again to entertain another visiting Italian professor. This time, it was a Friday afternoon—right between my clinic sessions, which I usually reserved for meeting my students. That time slot was precious; it was ministry time.
Since I was only communicating with his secretary, I was initially relieved when the meeting was cancelled. But by God's divine intervention, she reminded me: "Prof [my HOD] is adamant for you to meet him—there must be a reason." At that point, I had no idea what the reason could be, other than having to skip my precious time with students to entertain a guest. Eventually, I had to turn down my students (see message) for the sake of obeying my boss.
I wrestled with the decision. Should I obey my boss or continue my ministry plans? Eventually, I chose to honour both God and authority—and said yes to the meeting.
And once again, God worked through that obedience.
The young Italian professor I met turned out to be incredibly helpful. He connected me with his contacts, found a home for us, joined a Zoom call to walk me through the apartment, and even negotiated the rent down to a good rate—Wi-Fi and utilities included.
It was exactly what we needed: a simple, spacious home with three rooms, enough for guests and family.
How could that be coincidence?