
- Max Brambilla
- Plastic Surgery
- Indietro
- Cosmetic Surgery
- Reconstructive Surgery
- Genital Surgery
Per appuntamenti:
+39 3358151911Indirizzi:
Gyplast Medical Institute - Viale Luigi Majno, 18Milano
Clinica Planas - Av. Pere II de Montcada, 16Barcelona
Clinique Champel - Rue Firmin Massot, 12Ginevra
Email:
info@massimilianobrambilla.itMy name is Massimiliano Brambilla, and I was born in Milan. My childhood and adolescence were spent as a happy child in my city. I received a religious education in elementary school from the Ursuline Sisters and a secular education in middle school at the San Celso Institute. I attended classical high school at Tito Livio, where I spent 5 years of great pleasure and intellectual stimulation. From a young age, I was an engaged individual: studying English and German, engaging in competitive rowing, and playing the guitar. My parents ensured that I lacked nothing. Medicine has always fascinated me, especially in its anatomical aspects. The discovery of the human body and its mysteries was one of my favorite pastimes even during adolescence. It seemed natural to me to enroll in medical school.

I enrolled at the University of Milan, and from the first year, I recall the encounter with two figures of great culture and infinite humanity, Bruno Zanobio and Giuseppina Bock Berti, renowned medical historians. Through them, I discovered the humanistic side of medicine and its connection to philosophy. They explained that if the faculty of medicine separated from the philosophical faculties only in 1920 and until that date was not part of the scientific faculties, there was a reason, and they were right. Medicine is not just technical expertise; it is much more. It is not just about administering a pill or saving the patient with the best surgical gesture; it is about listening and understanding visible and invisible ailments, physical and of the soul. It is about seeing the maladies of the body and glimpsing the maladies of the soul, giving attention, and finding the right words to communicate hope or the lack thereof.
After completing the first year, I felt the need to experience the hospital up close. The opportunity came during a celebratory congress at the Mangiagalli clinic, to which I was involved by the medical historians. On that occasion, I met Laura Sanchioni, a passionate pathologist and a leading expert in congenital malformations. This eclectic personality fascinated me with the subject, revealing the aberrations that nature can create. I passionately frequented the department, and one day, during the autopsy of a malformed newborn with a cleft lip, Laura suggested I knock on the door of the plastic surgery department where cleft lips were treated, to see how nature could be repaired.
The game was on.
I was in the second year of university when I began attending the plastic surgery department, the place where I currently practice my profession. This department boasted a significant history and reputation, having been founded in the 1930s by Gustavo Sanvenero Rosselli, considered the father of Italian plastic surgery. Anyone working there carried the weight of this legacy. I had the opportunity to meet Franco Mussinelli, who had led the department for twenty years. I remember him as a very serious man, but unfortunately, I did not have the chance to know him personally, as he passed away shortly after. Armando Carù succeeded him, and he had made the care of cleft lip and congenital malformations a life mission. With him, I had the privilege of working with other surgeons, including Tito Cipollini and Franco Campagna, with whom I still collaborate today. The specialties of the department focused on congenital malformations, with sections dedicated to children, women, and men, totaling 40 beds.
My days were extremely intense: in the morning, I attended the surgery department, in the afternoon, I dedicated myself to pathological anatomy for dissecting activities, and in the evening, I participated in university courses for working students. Fortunately, my sleep routine of 5-6 hours per night allowed me to handle the density of the days without problems. I found every aspect fascinating, absorbed everything I saw, and remained constantly excited.

The excitement for my work has never left me. Every morning, I thank the heavens because I do a job that I deeply love and am passionate about. Medicine, for me, is much more than just an occupation; it is total involvement. The exams went well, and I had found a study method that integrated theory with practice. Never being a pure mnemonic, I applied what I studied to reality, amusing both myself and my teachers. During exams, to give my best, I imagined facing a patient with that specific disease and spoke to the teacher about the patient, not just the disease itself.
During that time, Laura Sanchioni also introduced me to NLP, neuro-linguistic programming, a branch of applied psychology that was taking its first steps in Italy. Another significant figure in this context was Gianni Fortunato. This encounter was a real catalyst in my life. Learning speed reading at 22 does not have the same impact as when learned at 40, and learning to read between the lines was a gift I will be grateful for all my life.
The years flew by quickly, and I started preparing my thesis on “congenital malformations of external genitalia.” It was a research thesis that took three years to compile. Despite numerous commitments, I managed to graduate in 1992, at the age of only 25. I remember the wise words of my friend Tito Cipollini, who said, “It’s only now that the dance begins”… and he was right.
In the same year, I gained access to the specialty school in plastic surgery. I participated in various competitions and was the top-ranked in Pavia, where Giorgio Boggio Robutti, accepting only one resident per year, became a key figure for me. Boggio Robutti had been the last direct pupil of the great Sanvenero Rosselli and the first to confer dignity to aesthetic surgery within plastic surgery.
In his team, two other crucial figures worked: Angela Faga, who would later inherit the department, and Elio Caccialanza, known as “il Caccia,” to whom I owe much of my surgical training. I will be eternally grateful to Boggio Robutti for offering me the opportunity to travel the world, attending departments that, on his suggestion and that of others, were considered the best for my professional growth.
I spent long periods in the United States, visiting San Diego (UCSD), Los Angeles (UCLA), and Texas (Dallas University), interspersing my experiences with attendance at conferences in various locations. In Berlin, I met another pillar of my profession, Richard Sadove, the favorite pupil of Charles Horton, considered the father of modern external genital surgery. Later, when he moved to Tel Aviv (Israel), he asked me to join him. I accepted and spent an incredible year of training and cultural enrichment.
Later, I returned to Pavia, where the specialization thesis awaited me. Five years had passed in the blink of an eye. It’s incredible how it seems like yesterday, and yet so much time has passed.

Specializing at the age of 29 in 1997 with a thesis on defects of breast implants, which earned me the displeasure of manufacturing companies, I faced the choice of deciding my future: stay in Italy or seek opportunities abroad? Despite tempting offers from the United States and three interesting offers to stay in my country, when I learned of a competition to return to the department where I had started, the place where plastic surgery had taken off in Italy, I had no doubts. I ardently wanted to return to work in Milan, continuing a tradition that I felt deeply rooted in me.
In 1997, I won the competition to become the medical director of the Complex Unit of Reconstructive Plastic Surgery at the then Istituti Clinici di Perfezionamento. The head was still Armando Carù, and the specialties remained the same as before: congenital malformations, especially cleft lip and genital malformations. Our new battleground was taking shape: breast surgery.
A crucial transition was the change of leadership from Carù to Silvano Poma, a general and plastic surgeon who had always focused on breast oncological surgery. Over the years, traditional specialties were complemented by oncoplastic breast surgery. The numbers grew to the point where this pathology became predominant compared to other interventions. We even started a clinic for patients with breast implants.
I confess that initially, I was skeptical and resistant to the idea of blending plastic surgery with general surgery. It seemed unnatural: what did a plastic surgeon have to do with mastectomies, axillary dissections, and quadrantectomies? Over the months, however, I began to understand that it wasn’t so; it was an added value, an epoch-making turn in the treatment of breast cancer. We moved from the concept of demolishing and reconstructing surgery as two separate moments to the universally accepted concept of oncoplastic surgery: maximum radicality with simultaneous attention to reconstruction.
In the meantime, I continued to dedicate myself to areas of reconstructive surgery that fascinated me: genital surgery, congenital malformations, and orbital surgery. In 2008, we were integrated into the larger general surgery directed by Professor Roviaro, which not only allowed us to maintain our activity but even to enhance it, also stimulating research activities that struggled to take off.
I engaged in projects on rare diseases such as neurofibromatosis and Poland syndrome, as well as studies on melanomas and skin tumors. For the past two years, I have been actively involved in projects on stem cells cultured from adipose tissue, a challenging but immensely gratifying endeavor. I have always missed research a bit, as one of my superiors said when I asked to be less involved in the operating room to focus on research: “Brambilla, you were born for the operating room, taking the worker out of the foundry would be like depriving Star Trek’s Discovery of its crew.” It’s true, I feel that way even now. I love operating; it excites me and doesn’t tire me, but speculative and research activities continue to thrill me. Working with stem cells makes me feel a bit like being on Star Trek’s Discovery. It’s another aspect of my profession that fascinates me.
For the past 10 years, I have been making regular trips to Africa. For the first 5 years, I operated in northern Benin, while in the last 5 years, I visited southern Togo. The mission hospitals where I worked were founded by the Fatebenefratelli. During these experiences, I had the honor of meeting Fra Fiorenzo Priuli, an extraordinary person, revered as a living saint and so highly esteemed that he received the Légion d’honneur, the highest French honor. Fra Fiorenzo Priuli enrolled in medical school after spending 20 years in the operating room, performing thousands of major surgeries. I owe to him the tenacity that drives me to continue for hours in the operating room without feeling fatigue. He calls it a “mission” with a mystical connotation, and I use the same term with a more secular and humanitarian approach. However, in essence, we say and think the same thing.
My specialty, plastic surgery, has multiple facets. In addition to the reconstructive aspect, there is the aesthetic aspect. I do not consider these two dimensions as conflicting; on the contrary, I believe that aesthetic surgery is reached progressively. Initially, one goes from general surgery to reconstructive plastic surgery, and then to aesthetic surgery. These transitions must occur gradually. Of course, there are many surgeons who skip the first two steps to dedicate themselves directly to aesthetic surgery, often for economic reasons. I have met doctors who, despite being hepatologists, anatomopathologists, orthopedists, or gynecologists by training, also dabbled in aesthetic surgery. But what do liver, cadavers, knees, and female intimate parts have to do with aesthetic surgery? It’s not always clear… My conviction is that specialization does not necessarily guarantee the quality of work, but it should at least qualify for a specific field learned during the 5 years of ministerial training.
I also know surgeons who practice aesthetic surgery honestly without having the specific specialty, simply because they chose this path out of passion, not economic necessity. What I constantly emphasize to my students is that the difference between a professional and an amateur lies not only in the quality of basic work, which can be similar, but especially in the ability to handle advanced and refined aesthetic surgery, as well as the skills to manage any complications.
Unfortunately, the situation is similar in the field of aesthetic medicine. Most of those who approach this specialty today seem to do so primarily for economic reasons and not as a professional choice motivated by a passion for what they do. During the courses I teach for physicians in aesthetic medicine training, I often come across professionals who seem more oriented towards the world of "clients" than "patients." This bothers me, and I protest. You are doctors, and you should treat anyone who comes to you as a patient, not just as a consumer of a service. Medicine should not be a mere transaction of services but should offer the utmost in line with the concept of "pater familias," someone who does their best for the good of the community. Since I began my specialization, I have dealt with complications related to the use of fillers, a highly debated issue today but one that for years saw me as one of the few experts in the field (sometimes harshly criticized by manufacturing companies and colleagues who injected liquid silicone and methacrylates without scruples). However, I am convinced that seriousness and professionalism are always rewarded. Since 1998, I have also been a court expert in Milan, where I am called upon to provide opinions in both civil and criminal cases. I try to perform my job objectively and as professionally as possible, substantiating my assessments in the most scientific way possible. Judging the work of other colleagues is never pleasant, but I have always believed that it is preferable for damage caused by plastic surgery to be evaluated by a plastic surgeon rather than an orthopedic surgeon.

Life is not just work, and I have always despised those colleagues with whom you can only talk about work, even over a Negroni, in total relaxation. Surgery can occupy a significant part of life, but there is much more.
A fundamental role is played by family (and I have a splendid one), friendships that play an extremely important role, as well as passions.
Among friendships, I have many among my colleagues, but it is especially in the world of art that I have found common ground. I love art, especially modern, contemporary, and abstract art. I appreciate the energetic, decisive brushstroke, not affected, that emanates energy. Among my favorites are the Futurists like Balla, the brilliant Russian artists like Kandinsky, Rothko, and Malevich. I remain amazed in front of the power of Bacon’s works. In the contemporary, I appreciate the conceptual art of Kiefer, the installations of Hirst, and the provocations of Cattelan. I love, not only for close friendship, the works of Nino Mustica, surrounding myself with his brilliant abstraction and power close to Futurism that still fascinates me. I’m not enthusiastic about contemporary Chinese art, although I must recognize the greatness of some of them. I find Orlan’s performances amusing, Greenaway’s installations grandiose (he is also my favorite director). I like photography, especially Capa’s war shots and the technical perfection of Mapplethorpe.
Sculpture fascinates me a lot, and my eye tends to favor the perfection of the classical period and the perfection of form. This satisfies the rational part more than the emotional one. I find that the perfection of form is the result of very high craftsmanship but sometimes lacks that emotional component that I can find in disorderly brushstrokes or in a magmatic form. By this, I do not mean to say that Donatello’s David or Canova’s works do not convey emotions, on the contrary… it’s like looking at a perfect but icy woman.
I love nature and mountain sports, having grown up on skis and dedicating my passion to snowboarding for over 10 years. I find that this sport allows for expressing movement in a free and fluid way, giving space to the imagination of the body. Throughout the year, I love to soar through the skies while paragliding, a beautiful and liberating experience, especially when catching a thermal and flying in an updraft, following an eagle, reaching the apex of the experience.
I am aware that I do a complex and often stressful job that puts a strain on the coronary arteries. Contemplating art and engaging in sports, even extreme ones, help rebalance my spirit.
I love music, and my day starts with the radio. I adore jazz, especially the free jazz of the ’70s, with Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis among my favorites. In Italy, I appreciate Boltro and Bosso, while Rava, although considered the best, sometimes seems excessively introspective and tiring. I enjoy the virtuosity of Michel Camilo, and I could watch the same video of Petrucciani, reminding me of an incredible concert, a thousand times. I also appreciate rock, the energy of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Franz Ferdinand, and I like rap only if it is engaged or infused with jazz references.
I love dogs and share my life with a wonderful 6-year-old blue Great Dane.
I love to travel, and since childhood, my family roamed Europe, Asia Minor, and West Africa in a tent. I had an early love for South America, vividly recalling the wonderful two-month journey from Chile to Ecuador, walking across Costa Rica with a small group of extreme English trekkers, the Darién Gap, and numerous visits to Central America. Later, I fell in love with the East, traveling through a still-peaceful Pakistan and reaching Kabul in difficult but not extreme times. I experienced the thrill of exploring a still-intact Cambodia before Pol Pot devastated it, and I visited many other destinations in Asia. In Africa, I also travel for work one month a year, and I find the continent fascinating—the only place where traveling is still a true adventure.
In the United States, I have spent a lot of time—a great country, although life in the provinces proved challenging. In Israel, I lived in relatively calm times, without the shadow of suicide bombings that would later characterize the region.


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P.I. 11794580156