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President’s Letter
Wherever You Are, That’s Home
By Stephen J. Ezzo, MD
I mentioned in my last letter how my wife was injured If you would have told me as a kid I would find myself in this
while skiing. Although it could have ended on a better setting, I would have thought you slightly touched in the head.
note, the vacation itself once again reminded me of the Furthermore, I doubt I could have invented such a scene, even with
wonderment of life. my penchant for storytelling. To recap, Florida boy in Canada with
a Cuban cigar and Canadian beverage, idly dreaming of what boats
When I met my wife-to-be in medical school in St. Louis, I had lay beyond the blue-pink horizon of a Great Lake, while soaking in
traditional Scottish music. Life truly is a miracle.
spent the first 18 years of my life in Florida and the last four in
By now, if you have hung in this far, you may be thinking, “Nice
Georgia. Though uncertain at best, I harbored visions of becoming stories.” Or not. What I hope most of you are thinking is, “What
does this have to do with the practice of medicine, and how can I
an internist, returning home to practice alongside my father (what a apply it to my life?”
mentorship that would have been!), eventually assuming the practice First, our cumulative experiences make us more rounded. We can
see others’ opinions more objectively and, in the medical setting,
upon his retirement. I vividly recall telling myself I had worked eight grasp patients’ views of their illness with less of our own bias. Once
we comprehend how our patients view their illness and the aspects
long years to get to this point and not to screw things up by getting that are critical to them, we can provide better, more personal, care.
involved in a personal relationship, which would detract from much- Second, what we have done, where we have been, allows us the
opportunity to make a non-medical connection with our patients.
needed study time and scuttle the best-laid plans. This connection, I believe, is as crucial as the medical one, as it
places the doctor-patient relationship on a less equitable plane. I
So, into my life strolled this Yankee girl (hey, everything beyond am firmly convinced our patients open up to us more if they see us
as more like them. Those issues seen as embarrassing may come
Richmond was Yankee to me ... north, west, it didn’t matter), who to light more often if we are viewed as more down-to-earth than
reserved professionals. I know we are pressed for time, and it cannot
challenged me intellectually and electrified me emotionally. Our be done at each and every visit, but the occasional social query can
have lasting benefits. Just the other day, a patient told me he was
Our two worlds — courtship opened up new worlds, headed to my hometown for a vacation. He left with a list of local
professional and one of which was joining a ski joints only a native would know.
family. Up until then I had a grand Our two worlds — professional and personal — are interwoven,
and we should resist the temptation to wholly separate them.
personal — are total of four forgettable ski days to Incorporating the worlds results in a symbiosis with the sum greater
interwoven, and we my credit. Soon I found myself on than the parts. It can lead to those things we all strive for, such as
should resist the top of a 12,000-ft. mountain; the deepening the bond with patients.
highest point in Florida is 345 feet. Of course, it also can lead to the unexpected, such as the edge of a
ski cliff.
temptation to wholly It was a trial by fire — I watched
separate them. as she and her siblings carved their “There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.”
way down a run, stopped, glanced — Robert Louis Stevenson
up at me and said, “Just like that.” Trivia question:
Who is Louise Joy Brown?
I would creep sideways across the hill, looking for the perfect place Answer on page 9.
to turn, which always seemed to be a bit farther away. Once in the
trees and out of options, I kicked off my skis — I got quite good at
that — took their names in vain (not so quietly) and walked down.
And, repeated on the next slope.
Here I am, 30-plus years later, wishing I had more days on the
mountain and amazed I have arrived at this point. For me, it is
the quintessential example of the twist and turns (or should I say
slaloms) life holds.
Indulge me once more, please. Every summer we spend some
time (again, never enough) at her family’s cottage on Lake Huron
in Canada. There’s a stretch of cottages along the shoreline and, a
few years back, I sat watching the sun melt into the lake, enjoying
a Cuban robusto. (And no, I did not violate the embargo; you can
buy Cuban products in Canada regardless of your nationality. But
frankly, Cuban cigars are overpriced and living on their reputation.
The ones from Honduras and the Dominican Republic are just as
good and less expensive.) A few cottages over a family celebrated
a reunion and hired a bagpiper for entertainment. Thanks to the
many trips made over the years, I actually could identify most of
the tunes by name.
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