Below is the combination of several pieces that I've written about my granddad and the story of his lectures which were given to me this past summer. I wanted to post this version, which I recently submitted for a school project. I think that (finally) this tells the whole story in the way that I wanted. Apologies to my frequent readers who are probably tired of hearing me harp on about all of this.
I thought the timing was interesting, as this is another week where I've needed some major inspiration to keep my head up.
--
My Beginning
I remember the exact moment that I
decided to become a doctor. I was seven years old and standing in the front pew
at my granddad’s funeral. I had been listening, really listening, to what the
mourners in that packed church had to say. Granddad was a doctor. The eulogists
spoke of his wisdom, generosity, and kindness. I heard references to his
medical innovation, his skill as a physician, and his dedication to patients.
Throughout the speeches there were murmurs and nodding of heads, dabbing of
eyes. I was mesmerized by the sea of stricken faces behind me, feeling the
powerful impact his life had had on all of these people. I saw very clearly a
glimpse of what a meaningful life looked like, the legacy that was left behind.
I knew I wanted to leave a similar mark on the world and I remember
determining, in my seven-year-old mind, that like my grandfather, I would be a
doctor.
Long Before That
My granddad, Russ Taylor, fought in
WWII. For his service as a navigator in the Royal Canadian Air Force, he was
granted free tuition in the university and program of his choice. As a fifteen-year-old Russ had heard
Norman Bethune, famous humanitarian and champion of universal medicine, speak
at his high school. From that time
on Russ had wanted to study medicine. But the Taylors were a farm family with
six children so Russ had attended normal school to become a teacher. And as
well, in a part-time job his hand had been deformed in a printing press. He never imagined that because of the war
his dream would be realized.
For his post-war training Russ
chose biochemistry and medicine at McGill and went on to become, first, a
legendary rural family doctor and eventually a polio expert. He was on the team
of physicians who brought the first iron lung to Canada. In his forties Russ
studied internal medicine and then specialized in cardiology. After further training at McGill he
returned to set up the first Cardiac Care Unit (CCU) in Alberta.
Even after being diagnosed with cancer Russ Taylor continued to work in cardiology, still visiting his long-surviving polio patients. In his last months he wrote an account of the polio epidemic for the university and he was working on a cardiology textbook when he died. The cardiac ICU at the University of Alberta hospital is named the Russell F. Taylor ward in his honor.
It almost feels wrong to extol the
virtues and accomplishments of this truly humble man who was never comfortable
with praise. Because I was a child when he died most of my knowledge of him is
second-hand. I have only a handful of my own memories… watching him play the piano, sitting with my
head on his chest listening to his mechanical heart valve (consequence of childhood
rheumatic fever), sharing scrambled eggs with him in the morning before he left
for ward rounds. I also remember clearly
that he was one of the few adults who spoke and listened to me with genuine
interest and delight… with respect for my personhood.
All of my life I've been steeped in stories of his astounding
medical career, his profound love of medicine, his intelligence, insatiable
curiosity, and his interest in the world around him. Each of these stories is
locked in my memory coupled with the sadness that I was never able to know him
as a health care practitioner, myself. Sad that I could never hear his opinions
on certain procedures, ethical dilemmas, learn what he loved about medicine, or
find out what frustrated him. Ultimately, I feel cheated that I never was able
to have him as a mentor. Others have often described him to me as the 'greatest
teacher and mentor' and yet I never had the opportunity to learn from him.
My Granddad’s Voice
In the spring of 2011 my mother
woke up one night thinking about a couple who been good friends of my
Granddad’s, Dora and Richard Lam. Dora
had arrived in Canada as a young Chinese woman, to study at the Southern
Alberta Institute of Technology in Calgary. After finishing her secretarial
program she became my Granddad's medical secretary. Over time she and her
husband, Richard, developed a close friendship with Granddad. At that time Richard was a masters
student trying to gain entry into medical school.
Knowing how much I valued learning more about my grandfather’s life, my mother set about trying to find the Lams in the hope I could someday meet them. And I did meet them.
Knowing how much I valued learning more about my grandfather’s life, my mother set about trying to find the Lams in the hope I could someday meet them. And I did meet them.
It was the week before my writing
of the USMLE. I was feeling guilty for taking a day off from cramming for the
exam, but at the same time I was looking forward with delight to meeting them
and gleaning a few more details to add to the mental portrait I have of
Granddad. It makes me feel somehow
closer to him when I hear about him from people whose lives he touched.
According to Richard, it was my
Granddad's letter of reference that got him into medical school. His interviewer
commented on the weight that a recommendation from Dr. Russ Taylor carried.
Dora claims my Granddad was very much like a father to her, and that she would
never have become a "damn good lawyer" if it hadn't been for his
continuous support and encouragement. When people with tears welling up in
their eyes tell you things, you simply have to believe that they are telling
the truth.
At one point during our lunch, Dora pulled out a small bag that she had brought in with her. She told me it was something that she'd kept for the past 30 years, through three residential moves…something she wanted me to have. Even before she pulled out the contents I felt my pulse quicken. "This is going to be a treasure," I thought. It didn't matter what it was...whether it was going to be an old pager, or a chart he had signed, a fountain pen...anything. I couldn't wait to see what the gift was.
Dora handed me a collection of audio tapes. All the hours of my Granddad's cardiology lectures to 3rd year medical students.
She had been the one who typed up the manuscripts for him, and she had kept the old reel-to-reel tapes in a box in her basement. "These are his lectures on cardiology and his notes for the cardiology textbook that he was working on. I could never bring myself to throw them away. And now I know why,” she told me.
I was overcome with emotion.
All my life, all my adult life I have wished that I could hear my granddad speak
to me about medicine. And now that
would happen. I couldn't contain myself. The tears poured down my cheeks. There
in the trendy restaurant with a handful of photographs on the table and an
empty coffee cup to stare into, I could not wrap my head around it. There in
the final week of a very challenging
year, studying for a terrifying exam, feeling completely over my head, second
guessing myself at every turn…at that moment my Granddad's actual voice was given to me.
It was the boost I needed. Granddad speaking to me across the years, reaching me through people whom he loved. Talking with the Lams about their careers and about Dr. Taylor’s vocation for medicine gave me an immeasurable dose of determination and renewed my understanding of why I chose this path. It was not only because he was great physician, but because I could see how his example and his legacy continues to move and inspire others to meet challenges and make contributions.
It was the boost I needed. Granddad speaking to me across the years, reaching me through people whom he loved. Talking with the Lams about their careers and about Dr. Taylor’s vocation for medicine gave me an immeasurable dose of determination and renewed my understanding of why I chose this path. It was not only because he was great physician, but because I could see how his example and his legacy continues to move and inspire others to meet challenges and make contributions.
I have finally been able to listen
to my grandfather’s voice, the sound of which I had forgotten. I hear him talk
about his passion, about something that inspired awe in him…Medicine.
CBC
The radio show, White Coat, Black Art is a national
program hosted by Dr. Brian Goldman, which airs on the Canadian Broadcast
Corporation (CBC) twice weekly. Dr. Goldman is an emergency physician and best-selling
author, and one of my medical heroes. I was thrilled when he contacted me last
summer and asked me to appear on the show, for a piece they were doing on nurse
and physician communication styles. When his producer asked me if I’d like to
contribute again to the show I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to bring the
story of these tapes to life and create a radio piece with excerpts from the
lectures.
When the show entitled Inspiration aired on Christmas Eve, it
was very well received. A former RN who had worked with Dr. Taylor heard the
show and emailed the host to say how much she had enjoyed being a colleague of Russ
Taylor’s for years on the CCU. It was also a delight for our family to hear him
over the radio waves after all these years… the sound of his voice rousing
memories.
My Granddad loved listening to CBC,
often sitting in his car in front of the house to hear the end of a program
before coming in from a house call, or in later years retreating to his study
to listen to a program on his old radio. It was a strange and wonderful gift
exchanged between us…these tapes with his
voice and my voice responding to them
through the radio show. But the lasting gift was to me from him…a reminder of
who set me on this path, why I chose it, and how I’ll carry on. Rededicated to
my childhood ambition of twenty-five years ago… I will be a doctor.
