Up Front
Pulling Back the Curtain
Linda J. Burns, MD
We can learn much more from the prominent leaders in hematology and oncology than clinical expertise. In Pulling Back the Curtain, we speak with hematology/
oncology professionals about how they approach their leadership positions and
what advice they would give those just getting started in the field. For our first-ever
feature, we asked Linda J. Burns, MD, current president of the American Society of
Hematology, about her career in hematology, how her early experiences continue
to shape her career, and the importance of doing what you love.
Linda J. Burns, MD, at her alma
mater, University of Missouri, in
Columbia, Missouri.
What was your first job?
I grew up on a working farm
in northern Missouri, so really,
my first job was doing chores.
My siblings and I were the
first ones on the school bus in
the morning and the last ones
off in the evening, and we did
chores before and after school.
In the summertime I raked hay.
Education was stressed in our
household. My parents, farm
kids themselves who didn’t have
the advantage of an advanced
education, were adamant about
their children going to college.
How did you find yourself in
hematology? Was there any
other career you could see
yourself in?
Growing up, I loved science and
math. I majored in biology at the
University of Missouri-Columbia
and during that time, a good
friend decided to study medical
technology. That sounded like a
good career, so I completed an
extra six months for a medical
technology degree. When rotating
through the clinical laboratories, I
became fascinated by hematology,
and, following graduation,
accepted a position in the clinical
hematology laboratory at the
University of Missouri Medical
Center. Students and hematologists
frequently came to the laboratory
to review blood smears, and when
hearing them discuss their clinical
cases I thought, “I could be one
of them.” I became determined to
become a hematologist, and was
lucky enough to be accepted into
medical school. I can’t really think
of any other career that I could
see myself in — I actually applied
to medical school to become a
hematologist.
After medical school, I
completed my residency, chief
residency, and fellowship at the
University of Iowa. While I was an
intern on the hematology service
we had a patient with Hodgkin
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lymphoma who required a platelet
transfusion. In that era, it was
not routine to irradiate blood
products for immune-deficient
patients, and unfortunately,
she succumbed to transfusionassociated graft-versus-host
disease. I was fascinated by the
pathophysiology underlying this
case, which became my initial first
author publication.
Hooked, I asked to rotate on
the bone marrow transplantation
service. I had to ask for two years,
as residents were not allowed on
the service due to its seeming
complexity. However, in my last
month as a resident, I was allowed
on the service, and from that
month onward my goal was to
become a transplanter.
Was there anyone who
acted as a mentor in your
career in hematology?
I’ve had wonderful mentors over
many years. Michael Perry, MD,
a hematologist at the University of
Missouri, encouraged me to apply
to medical school and remained
a lifelong friend and colleague.
At Iowa, Craig Howe, MD, and
Gordon Ginder, MD, were
tremendous mentors in clinical
transplantation and research. In
1992, I moved to the University
of Minnesota where numerous
colleagues have been mentors. James
George, MD, helped me envision
myself as a future leader in the
American Society of Hematology
and has been a wonderful mentor
and supporter of my career.
What accomplishment in
your career are you most
proud of?
I haven’t made any major
scientific discoveries, but I’m
pleased with the contributions
I have been able to make to the
field of hematology. At the end
of the day, I’m most proud to
have been a mentor to others.
I’m also very honored to be
the President of the American
Society of Hematology.
In a typical day what is your
rose and what is your thorn?
It always comes back to patients
for me. The “thorn” is when I
have to tell a patient bad news;
it hasn’t gotten any easier over
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