What I Learned from a Famous Pediatric Radiologist

What I learned from Dr. Taybi: A life of gratitude

“Before I ventured forth,

even while I was very young,

   I sought wisdom openly in my prayer.” Ecclesiasticus 51:13.

As I pray today for refugees and those trying to immigrate to our country, I came across a note from Dr. Hooshang Taybi from 2006, posted on Daily Something yesterday. Dr. Taybi wrote the letter three weeks before he died, responding to my email after hearing the news of his terminal illness.

If you are a radiologist or pediatrician, you will remember Dr. Taybi, best known for studying children with difficulties that become part of a syndrome. He was acclaimed professionally for his encyclopedic memory of over 100 journals he read, leading to his classic textbook, The Radiology of Syndromes.

 But I most remember his kindness, humbleness, and caring for others, empowering others, never too important to spend time with you.

A colleague shares a phrase from Dr. Taybi’s favorite Persian poem: “The best way to show your gratitude for having a strong arm is to extend a helping hand to the weak.”1

I see the life of a brilliant man who, close to his death, still expresses gratitude for those who helped him over 50 years before. Dr. Taybi still empowers us today by telling stories of children with illnesses, recounting how he was empowered, with gratitude for all who touched his life, even to the end. I continue to see daily the difference gratitude can make in a person’s life.

So today, I will try to remember and give thanks for those who empowered me, and pray that I can pass empowerment and gratitude on to others. I also want to remember Dr. Taybi’s story of the many strangers who helped him in his lifetime. I hope to do the same for those who come to our country, remembering Dr. Taybi’s story, of how he sought a new life.

I also remember that if a travel ban had been in place for Muslim countries such as Iran, Dr. Taybi would never have come to his America. I think of all of us whose lives would not have been touched by his wisdom, especially the children and their parents, who would have missed his medical expertise.

1Ron Cohen, Charles Gooding, “Memorial Hooshang Taybi,” in AJR, 187:1382-1383, 2006.

Joanna   https://www.joannaseibert.com/

A Letter From Dr. Taybi

A Letter from Dr. Taybi

I received this letter from a refugee from Iran shortly before he died:

Rev. Joanna J. Seibert: 

Dear Joanna (please call me Hoosh):

Thank you very much for a very kind email. Your encouragement is most appreciated. I have accepted my illness and have no trouble dealing with the situation, thanks primarily to the support of my loving wife, Alice, and my children.

I am so thankful for all the opportunities I have been given by my mentors, friends, and, many times, strangers in this country. Your kindness and reading your email brings me back to 1946, when I was a practicing pediatrician in the city of Hamedan in Iran. An American missionary had a small hospital and clinic headed by a young American, Dr. Frame. I told him one day, I planned to go to America and get more education. A son of a missionary, he spoke Farsi fluently. I told him I wanted to learn “American.” He taught me a few words in “American” [English].

When I left Iran, Mrs. Frame gave me a letter to deliver to her parents, the Andersons. I arrived in New York City in December 1948, just before Christmas, and found my way in Manhattan to the Andersons’ apartment. Mr. Anderson took me to New York University, met with Professor Tobin, the Dean of Students, and enrolled me in English class. Andersons were missionaries, having spent many years in South America’s jungles. 

Their kindness did not end there. Many times, they invited me to their home, and I spent the 1949 Christmas at their home in New Jersey. The Frames moved back to USA, and Dr. Frame had a practice in New York City.

It was in 1964 when we gave a course in Pediatric Radiology at Indiana University Medical Center. I sent an invitation for Dr. Frame to come as my guest and attend the course. He could not come. But in a nice note stated: “I see your ‘American’ has much improved,” referring to my use of American instead of English in 1948!! This type of kindness is unforgettable. To the end of my life, I shall remember what they did for a man from another land and another culture. Two of the Anderson photographs from my album are attached.

I appreciate very much your family remembering meeting this old friend. Please extend my regards to them, and I hope we meet again at another SPR gathering.

Hoosh

Joanna  https://www.joannaseibert.com/ 

Turning Regrets Into Improved Living

REGRETS: OPEN AND CLOSED

Ken Fellows:   Guest Writer and Artist 

Open and Closed Lillies

“Though we would like to live without regret, and sometimes proudly insist that we have none, this is not really possible, if only because we are mortal.”— Ben Baldwin

                                                                                                                                      My brother Sam was the youngest of our four siblings. I was the oldest. Sam was born when I was 16 and going off to college. I was far less brotherly toward him than were my other two siblings. When an adult, Sam grew generally distant from our family, a bachelor living in another state, working as a bartender.

Highly intelligent, Sam’s thinking and planning were romantically grandiose, bordering on the delusional. He had unfulfilled schemes to be everything from a professional boxer to an explorer on expeditions to undersea ‘lost’ worlds. Living a seemingly lonely life, Sam hung himself at age 37. Only days before his suicide, Sam had phoned me (a virtually unprecedented event) to say “hello,” which, in retrospect, was his personal “goodbye.”

     Suicide always leaves friends and loved ones holding the bag. Sam’s death left me with the long-lasting regret that I hadn’t been more attentive, more supportive …more of a lot of things… for him. Now, even years later, I suffer what can be termed “closed door remorse,” …. a regret not fixable, because the person is no longer alive. Whenever I think of Sam, it causes me recurring sadness and guilt.  

     Many years later, in my midlife and working at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, my secretary one afternoon announced a phone call for me from “Andrea D.” I hadn’t heard that name in 40 years.

      Andrea had been my girlfriend in our late teens and early college years. We were both Midwesterners attending the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. After a three-year romance, she abruptly had mutual friends deliver the news that she needed a change … that she needed to seek greener pastures.

We had no contact after that until her phone call. I had known for years that she had established a clinical psychology practice in our hometown. She had become a patient of my dentist brother, John, and sometimes inquired about me. I also knew from John that she had never married.

     Quite surprised and somewhat hesitant, I picked up the phone to greet this woman from my past. Perplexed about why Andrea might be calling after so many years, I hesitantly greeted her. After exchanging a few awkward pleasantries, I asked why she was phoning. She said, “I just want to apologize.”

She offered nothing more, both of us knowing it was for her abrupt ending of our relationship years ago. I insisted she had no reason for remorse, and she countered that her apology was “just the right thing to do.” After a further exchange of courtesies and small talk, we said our goodbyes.

     Reflecting some time later about her call, it occurred to me that as a mental health therapist, it was likely she often urged penitence in others, and perhaps was exercising repentance herself. Her remorse is an example of an “open-door regret”…. shame that can be ameliorated because it involves a living person, however awkward and uncomfortable the offered contrition may be.

     The lesson in her call is that when one cares about a relationship that has been undone, one can somehow establish contact, make a visit, do something to reach out … to push past the mental clumsiness and reluctance blocking needed action.

     When I reflect on her apology and the courage it took for Andrea to carry through, there’s a valuable life lesson --- open-door regrets allow us to extend ourselves to do what should be done, however difficult and humbling it may be.

    From attending Al-Anon meetings for many years, I learned about “making amends” as an enhancement to offering apologies. The intention and sentiment conveyed in ‘making amends’ is that one not only faces up to and apologizes for ill behavior, but also promises to do better in the future. It seems an enhanced, more sincere effort than offering only personal acknowledgment and lament for past transgressions.

     In his insightful book The Power of Regret, Daniel Pink describes the valuable concepts of “closed and open regrets.” He further suggests: “We all should transform regret into reaching out and doing better.”

Ken Fellows

Joanna Seibert joannaseibert.com