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Back Row: Dan Johnson, John Wrangle, Jonathan Nass, Zia Khan, Jason
Glotzbach, Alex Gelbard's sunglasses, Shaun Donnegan, Rahul's left eye,
Luther Ward, BJ Williams
Outstretched: Andy Martin with his head on Adam Nicholson
2nd row: Bryan Fritz, David Robertson, Sepehr Nowfar,
Michael Zeringue, John Ramsey, Joe Matthews
Two guys in the middle: Andre Viator, Ed McCoul
2nd row from front: Wayne Huang, Simul Parikh, Mike
Craig, David, Ed Kwon, Patrick Gaston, Ron Shatzmiller
Front and center: Christina Ng Bergstrom, Evan Rosenbluth
Many doctors have what I call the “arrogance of the healthy”, in which
they treat the disease of a patient without much regard for the
patient as a person. Having been a patient for far too many years of
my adult life, I have known many of these doctors, who stoop from
their privilege of good health to do their work. They wield the sort
of noblesse oblige that makes them feel so good, and may cure the
patient, but makes the patient feel thoroughly diminished as a person.
It is as if the disease existed for no other reason than to permit the
doctor to demonstrate his skill, and as if effecting a cure then
permits the doctor to take credit for all the hard labor invested by
the patient and his loved ones to turn post-cure life into a
meaningful existence. This is evident in cancer survivor groups, in
which so much more resilience than most of us will ever witness is on
full display. No doctor can credit himself for that resilience, and
the doctor of noblesse oblige is too detached from the patient to
witness, let alone share, this marvelous and inspiring experience.
Enter Tulane, and the 34 bald people freezing their scalps off every
morning along with me. While one’s friends and respected colleagues
undeniably will offer more of themselves than a stranger (regardless
of their professional status) this willingness to take a moment from
one’s life to walk another’s path speaks to some of the richest and
most inspiring human qualities: love, empathy without pity,
compassion. Not content to merely stoop from their pinnacle of health
to offer a pat on the head, these folks were intent on walking my path
as much as they reasonably could, and as a result (I hope) their
reservoir of experience from which to draw empathy will become that
much larger. While these sorts of human beings will offer their future
patients far more legitimation than the arrogant ones do, they also
are the most likely to understand that beyond an effective cure lies a
marvelous human being upon whose shoulders rests the responsibility
for returning post-treatment life to a meaningful state. For this
humility, such physicians are rewarded with a small window into the
post-treatment world of the patient that can enable them to be
routinely inspired beyond their imagination. As a patient in a cancer
survivor group, I regularly witness this first hand. I aspire to not
forget this as I pass into clinical practice someday.
I have, to a great degree, sought to find post-treatment meaning for
my life in the pursuit of a medical degree, and ultimately medical
practice. This preceded even my first bout with cancer, but was only
enlarged upon by my first, and now my second experience with it. Along
the way it has been a small handful of marvelous physicians who have
inspired me to become the sort of physician-person that can walk a
path with his patients, to our mutual enrichment and celebration.
Experiencing the community here at Tulane has been no small part in
that experience, because here I have seen more of the types of people
that will make such inspiring physicians than I imagined possible as
an undergraduate pre-med. As I wage this largely private war in a
strangely public setting, walking the halls with my bald head, feeling
unbearably naked emotionally, it is the presence of such people that
enables me to do this confidently, and in so doing inspire me to
continue becoming the type of doctor, and person, I most want to be.
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