"Son of": Professor Mimoun publishes a book in tribute to his deceased father

Professor Maurice Mimoun directs the plastic, reconstructive and aesthetic surgery department of Saint-Louis Hospital in Paris and the Burns Center. He is also a writer and after having published The impossible limit in 1996, in which he told his job, in particular his ethics or And death can wait in 2014, today he is releasing Son of Albin Michel editions. A book that pays tribute to his deceased father.

franceinfo: For you, everyone is a novel and here, in this case, your father is a series hero all by himself.

Maurice Mimoun: Yes. I had a hard time writing about my father. When he died, about ten years ago, obviously, as I like to write, the question arose of writing about him. It's hell because at the same time, we write and at the same time, we don't want to write. I had noticed with in particular The impossible limit that when one wrote a period of his life which obsessed us a little, well well one forgot it a little. We put it in a drawer, we felt reassured because it's written down, so it's always there. And I didn't want to forget my father or put him away in a drawer.

You also address your mom by saying: "Don't take that as an affront, don't imagine for a second that it's because I loved you less, or that I love you less, c it's just that I need to write about my father".

That's why the book is called Son of, we are the son of his father and his mother, there is no doubt. I explain to him that it's very unfair because I was lucky enough to have two infinitely loving parents, but the mother's love is quite obvious, we tell him of another way, the father, it's more complicated so we don't need to write about him anymore.

You say: "A mother is always there and a father always comes back".

A mother is always there and I wondered if it was like that for everyone, but in any case, for me, that's it. My father worked, he did the market, he had several periods in his life so we waited for him and he always came back.

Your father was called Charles and was the son of a farmer, arrived from Algeria. Your grandfather was a farmer in Constantine. It was your mechanic father, then inventor and three-time winner of the Lépine competition, who introduced you to the handling of tools. It was he who made you want to save lives, to repair people. It was he who gave you confidence in the future and in humanity.

We have to leave some for my mother. Saving lives, I think my mother is there because there is a kind of love for the other that she had. But yes, I realized when he died that he was an incredible being, modest because he didn't put himself forward. He was the head of the family, he pushed his children, I have two sisters, and above all, he was not cultured in the sense that we understand it today. That is to say, he did not read.

What made you want to become who you are today? You write: "We do medicine to save our parents, but it doesn't work".

Most people don't realize it, they do medicine to save their parents, but it doesn't work.

Was that the starting point for you?

I found out when my dad died and it never works. It is not trivial to do medicine. Yes, I wanted to become a surgeon because I worked with my hands since my childhood, in my father's workshop and it was very important and I was fascinated by this work. Moreover, it is not because one is skilful with one's hands that one succeeds easily in surgery. This is a necessary point, but not sufficient.

What exactly does it mean to repair people for you on a daily basis?

Being a doctor first is something incredible because you don't ask yourself the question of meaning. And that is an incredible opportunity. We do invaluable, incredible, indisputable acts, by giving to the other, it is something that reassures enormously. After surgery, I have the pleasure of the gesture. It's true that there is an artistic side to plastic surgery when you manage to dominate your profession, which is incredible. You know, gestures also happen from a teacher to the student, but also from his parents. It's the same thing. So, I have a great pleasure to operate. I never tire of even removing a mole. I don't need to perform a feat.

I would like to end by asking you what you keep most of him in you because he is part of you.

It's his laugh. He had a slightly hoarse laugh, with jerks and his smile.

He also taught you freedom, ingenuity, skill, determination. And yet, one and the other, you have never said to each other: "I love you".

It was so obvious. No, we never said it and I realized it when he died, but he never doubted my love and I never doubted his. So it wasn't worth it.