MAY-C-4

 

A COOL CLOUDY WEEKEND AT HOME WITH DOMESTIC CHORES AND SORTING OF SCORES OF PICTURES,

 AND THE GWU COMMENCEMENT:

 BOTH MY OWN AND THE HOODING CEREMONIES

 OF MY MEDICAL STUDENT ADVISEES

 

May 17—18, 2003

 

          It may have been a cool rainy—anything but the glorious warm springtime day one might reasonably expect from this time of year—but it was a great weekend nonetheless.  I spent much of it closed in at Derwood—unable to get out and mow the lawn to make it look less like I lived in an abandoned and therefore neglected hermitage—and during that time when I was not pulling on the starter cord of the recalcitrant lawn mower which refused to start, I was sorting pictures of the experience in Africa and preparing to see a number of my medical student colleagues in their formal send-off through GWUMC Commencement ceremonies.

 

TWO DC GRADUATION CEREMONIES

FOR GWU AND GWUMC

 

          There were two graduations in Washington DC yesterday---GWU and GWUMC—and I was involved in both.  In the first one, I graduated!  I found my name listed in the program as having been awarded the M. Phil. degree in Human Sciences effective January 2003.  This marks my FOURTH GW Master's degree!

 

          Since the debacle three years ago, when the national park Service canceled the traditional GWU mass graduation ceremony on the Ellipse of the DC Mall due to a lightning storm, and there was no “Plan B” option for a back-up for the grannies who had come from China or the Iranian uncles who had obtained visas to see their precious nephew sent to America to lift the family through an expensive education climaxed in this ceremony, there was an entire DC Convention Center rented for Plan B on this occasion.  But rain was not considered life-threatening, so they went ahead with Plan A—and the ceremony was held in the sodden grass of the Ellipse under leaden skies spitting rain.  The honorary degrees were awarded to contributors and Mark Warner, GW Grad and Governor of Virginia gave the address.  I took the bus down to the Ellipse and took a couple of pictures of the wet seats where I should have been, but left to come back to the office and clean the mud off my shoes which had buried the spike heels of many of the proud parents.

 

          The “Main Event” for me and a number of the GWUMC faculty and students was held in the Smith Center.  I was listed for the official duties of “Hooding” three of my protégés, and therefore had carried my academic regalia to the faculty dressing room in the Smith Center where IO had formerly come to prepare to run the DC Mall.

 

MY RUNNING PARTNER, FELLOW SURGEON,

AND COMMENCEMENT SPEAKER,

SENATE MAJORITY LEADER,

BILL FRIST

 

          To my surprise, the Commencement Speaker was my old friend and close compadre, Senate majority leader Bill Frist.  He and I have operated in the same African mission stations and he and I have run several marathons together, with a photo I had promised him of the Marine Corps marathon last year in which I had encouraged him at the half way point.  I went to his more highly secured room in advance of the ceremonies where he introduced me to his wife Karen and his personal aide Tom Craig who will be setting up later appointments with me.  We swapped cards and photographs, and then prepared to process.

 

          I went with the group of faculty the students had selected to “hood” them, as they had been identified as the most significant teachers in their lives, or—in my case additionally—the person who had got them into GW medical school in the first instance.  I processed among old friends, and sat center stage between Jim Blatt and Peter Hotez, so we had a good time during the rambunctious acknowledgment on the part of very proud families.  Both Bill Frist and Ambassador Rios were awarded Presidential Medals—the subject of a later reception for each—and I had a chance to speak with each of them as we enjoyed the ceremonies. 

 

          By a coincidence, each of my “hoodees” had surnames beginning with “S”.  Almost none of the student graduates had names like Smith or Jones, and a single white male twenty year-old is an endangered species in GW medical school, which is majority female, more experienced, and largely Asian.  I hooded Seema, who had first met me when I had been at a reception for the Voice of America six years ago with Habeeb Ghatala and she had been the Indian dance performer. She expressed the hope of coming to GW medical school, and I helped in that effort.  She got married last year in a “Monsoon Wedding” in which her husband came in on a white horse—in the rain—to which I was invited but for which I was—of all places—in India at the time.  She had made her first return to India after her freshman year and brought back the marble inlay of the Taj Mahal that stands on my desk.

 

          Next was a true GW product, Shahbanam Shahbadi, who has identified with me since I could understand her Islamic heritage, and her Iranian family had attended the Match Day ceremony and insisted on taking a portrait of us together—which I handed her on stage.

 

          My last “hoodee” was John Sutter.  John is the former Social Worker whose first patient he had ever seen was a small boy with an easily diagnosable case of pneumonia which I had helped him diagnose as the nomadic father had carried him to us over several days of mountain climbing on the shores of Lake Tso Morari where our Himalayan Health Medical Camp was situated.  I helped John do his first ever operation, this time in Embangweni last year, in removing an African Melanoma and applying a split thickness skin graft.  And I made it possible for him to see his last patient, since we had both just returned form a second trip to Embangweni Hospital in Malawi—making John a three-time veteran of my foreign medical missions and with the majority of his clinical experience coming form the international missions he has made with me.  It was a pleasure to be introduced to his father Robert and mother Valerie and sister and roommate.

 

          I had a real epiphany outside the Smith Center after the recessional.  A pair of proud parents came over to see me, and each looked familiar to me.  The husband I had recognized as a former patient and he may have seemed like an apparition, since I did not know he was still living.  I had done a radical adrenalectomy on him when I had met him as a very worried pharmacology employee of the FDA, who had this large mass show up on CAT scan, said by others to have been inoperable.  It might have appeared so, especially on imaging, but I had considered that there was no other chance for him.  He agreed, and I did an extended en bloc resection of his retroperitoneum, removing a fibrosarcoma of the adrenal already spread outside the capsule, and we informed him that I had done the best I could, but that it did not look good for his longer term prognosis. That was 14 years ago, and here he is attending his daughter’s graduation as an MD!

 

          That daughter turns out to be Laju Satchithanandam—my advisee for the past four years!  I had never put the two of them together—but if ever there were a paradigm of the clinician teacher, here in two generations was the product of my dual career!

 

          Laju had first come to my office with John Sutter prepared to do a foreign mission with me, but something had always blocked her completing it, including parents from Sri Lanka who had wanted her to go there rather than what they had viewed as war-torn India.  So, she had been often booked for several trips and with many visits and phone calls, had eventually canceled out of each, although her parents were very trusting of the leader Dr. Geelhoed!  Now, I learned how it is that they had seemed to know and trust me—first with is life, but reluctantly with that of their daughter in what they viewed as a volatile Kashmiri conflict—whereas I had just returned form a first hand view of the uncharacteristic violence in Sri Lanka, a gentle and beautiful land with a formerly peaceful population of divergent interests in Buddhists and Tamil Tiger Hindus inflaming the Capital and the northern provinces.

 

          So, the “world comes to GW” and, as my colleagues never tire of pointing out, I, as GW, am most often, going out to that world, so world-wide coincidences and familiarities in linkages are more likely to occur.

 

          That was the subject of the reception for the students and families, which I had first attended with lots of pictures and farewells, and then at the Presidential Medal receptions, with the Senator and Mrs. Bill Frist and Ambassador (of Panama) Rios and family.  It might be possible to make a special foreign mission with Bill Frist as well as get his help in the Global Health Institute that I have been discussing with Peter Hotez, and this week we will go to visit and discuss this further.

 

          So, my professional career at (or, as some might say, in orbit around) GW has some glowing moments of nostalgia when a brief pause is possible to consider the very diverse associations now extending over several generations.  It was five years ago when I had been on the platform to see the graduation of Joe McCormack’s daughter—Joe I had as my medical student at GW, and now I was graduating his daughter born in his residency here—and I had helped her get in to GW Medical school in response to Joe’s plea for help.  On a momentous single day in her life, she got married and got the letter from GW of her last minute acceptance to medical school.  This year I have heard about a possible third-generation professional application coming along, after already having experienced several second generations.

 

Last year I had missed the graduation of Elizabeth Yellen whom I would have hooded, as her mother Alison Brooks had been my anthropology thesis advisor, and she was one of those I had helped get into GW medical school and also helped her pick off the most prized residency of this last year’s Match Day.  She had been with me in Embangweni just before the match, and I was already off in India at the time of her graduation, but we had a “Malawi-show-and-tell” program before I left in which I could celebrate my “hooding equivalent” for her.  Now, in the international missions and advisees pipeline, I have scores more students that will be coming through, and today I must write three letters of recommendation—two for students who were with me as pre-medical applicants in India now applying to medical school and one for another two-time veteran and superb physician, Kevin Bergman, for residency applications.

 

          Now, on a more realistically somber note, I add that of the faculty who were emeritized yesterday, two of them graduated from medical school in the same year I did, and three of them came to the faculty after I had already been in it for several years. So, as I am celebrating the professional brotherhood (and in the case of my own protégés, the sisterhood),

 

 “…at my back I always hear, Time’s winged chariot hurrying near….”

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