A Lesson in Healing

Taaran Kaur, 6/24/24

My father and I are sitting in the living room, full from a delicious dinner. The sky outside the shuttered windows is dark and speckled with stars. He is lying down on the worn, gray sofa with a computer on his lap, reading echos that his fellow cardiologists didn’t have the time to, while I am curled up in an armchair. I can see the exhaustion lining his face after a long day at work, diagnosing patients, and doing procedures, but he still found the time to sit down for this interview. That is one of the reasons that he is a great doctor: he puts other people’s needs before his own. He truly cares about his patients, just like he cares about his family. Inspiration hits then, and I decide to ask a question that was not part of the original plan: “Dada, what is the most interesting patient you have helped?” At that, my dad looks up and puts away his computer. He thinks for a long moment, and then his eyes light up.  

He met the patient when he was on his rotations. “It was in Syracuse when I was a young little boy,” he laughs, referring to his time as a medical student at Syracuse University. I lean forward, eager for a glimpse into my dad’s life, and for this story that I had never heard before. The patient was an 18-year-old male who came to the hospital after being told that his symptoms were just pneumonia or bronchitis. Despite the treatment he received, he had leg swelling and kidney failure, which is highly uncommon in young people. No one understood why it was happening. After listening to his heart, my dad determined that he had a severe murmur, or leaks and turbulent flow from a heart valve. My dad and his supervisors called the patient in for an echocardiogram which revealed that he was born with one less cusp on his aortic valve and on top of that he had a severe infection. “People in the hospital thought that he was using drugs and that’s how his heart got infected,” my dad says, shaking his head. But being the caring and dedicated person he was, my dad decided to investigate further. He did not want to make assumptions based on the patient’s demographic.  

He ended up calling the patient's family because the patient had a breathing tube and was unable to speak. After speaking to them, my dad realized his instincts were correct. “He was a very hardworking person, a very religious person,” my dad elaborates. The patient had not been using drugs, like everyone believed: “his infection came from the fact that he was wearing his boots and working 18 hours even sometimes, to earn extra money so he could go back to school.” That was what had caused the heart infection: he was overworking because he wanted to follow his dreams. “He wanted to be an architect,” my dad mentions, contemplating, “I don’t know if he ever became an architect.” After collecting the information, my dad sought out his supervisor to detail the case. My dad wanted to see the patient get the help that the patient needed; he wanted to make sure that the patient was treated like a human being instead of a stereotype. But when my dad brought what he had learned to his supervisor, they did not believe him about the drug use, though they did accept his diagnosis. At this point, I am eagerly hanging on to every word. I know that this experience had an impact on my father because he still remembers all the minute details. “What did your supervisor do then? What happened to the patient?” I inquire, waiting at the edge of my seat. 

The supervisor confirmed with the family that my dad was telling the truth, and the patient was transferred to another hospital to receive emergency surgery. It was a success. “His kidney function recovered, and he was back to doing construction work in three weeks,” my dad smiles. His happiness is clear, even when recalling a patient from decades ago. His smile fades though, and my dad looks at me seriously. “There’s a lot of inequality in healthcare,” he says, the disappointment clear in his eyes. I know he’s right. If my dad had not intervened, the patient would not have gotten the care he needed, the care he deserved. My father explains that it is imperative to never have preconceptions about your patients and to treat everyone equally with kindness and respect: “There is a soul in everybody, and you need to help protect that soul when you're a doctor.” My dad truly exemplifies this through his wholehearted enthusiasm for healing. Seeing the positive impact he has had on countless lives is what inspired my dream to follow in his footsteps.  

My dad has helped and saved many lives, but he gives each patient his undivided attention and strives to give them the best care he can. He goes beyond what is expected and works to heal the body, mind, and soul. Now, he yawns as he gets up from the sofa, but I know he would never trade his job or responsibilities for a few extra hours of sleep. “Can I go to sleep now, or do you have any more questions?” he says with a kindhearted smile; I can tell he does not regret the interview at all. “You can go,” I respond, “Thank you.” Those two words are not just for this story, but for all the time he has given me over the years and all the invaluable lessons he has taught me.