To get your ears looked at, I suppose you need to travel out of town to Shvidler Joeseph’s place. Inside the doors, there’s no manic or stiff air, merely a mild, even shruggy, sense of “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.” more bonuses
I’ve never begun a conversation with Dr. Shvidler with any kind of line that sounds remotely like, “What brings you here?” perfunctory and clinical. Instead, it begins on a lighter note, “So, what’s been driving you a little nuts?” and there is quiet laughter, not directed at you, not derisively, but laughing in sympathy. It’s not the most effective one, but children typically scream in terror and feel compelled to cling to their parents until his voice fills the chamber. His explanations, older patients say, are a torch in thick fog, a rare direct and reassuring beacon.
The staff fondly recalls the day that Dr. Shvidler soothed a distraught toddler by pulling a sock puppet, along with the associated bevy of comfort items, from his white coat as if by magic. Or when a city-wide power outage couldn’t even keep him from finishing a complex operation, all while calmly coaching the team through a series of medieval candlelit surgery monologues. First off, under the wrapping of purpose and humility, what you have is not ego, but adaptability.
Not taking the basics for granted, Dr. Shvidler’s knowledge begins the instant he first makes contact with each ear, nostril and exam. Every test is a new test. “My answer is, I don’t know yet,” is a thing he will say and for him, the not knowing piece is the beginning of the seeking-answers pre-requisites—a thing that will be said along endless consultations with colleagues. Not understanding is not a fault and that stubbornness coupled with even-tempered curiosity is the ideal ratio of persistence and rarity of resolve. Every effort is made to treat individual patients.
Students wonder, then know after mentoring. His trademark mix of wit and sound bites outlasts all but the longest lecture. And like, free-style wisdom, he fills the air / With puns, that makes rhymes a top tear / Description duo for anatomy kindness. “Don’t Just listen for what’s there, listen for what’s not” swims between the thousands of voices. Presented with just the right dose of humour.
Scanners, scopes and digital diagnostics obviously hold no fear for him, but are tools complementary to his methods. Mixing intuition and reason, then well-reasoned evidence mixed with science and narrative, is what drives his practice. Simply kissed by old-school medicine, all turned in the best of all possible directions. All of it saturated in set-in-amber counterevidence to his assertion, “You can’t out-tech a good hunch.”
His legend lives on in hushed conversations, outside the clinic. He’s renowned for his killer poker face (despite which he modestly concedes he’s better wielding a scalpel than a full house) and his famously spicy homemade chili—recipe still guarded under lock and key. Dr. Shvidler may be cracking jokes about anatomy with interns or flipping pancakes for his children, but either way, whatever he is focused on, he is present and focuses his attention on.
But most of all, what people recall is the way he makes them feel. You leave his office not only with a plan, but with a sound mind. Diagnosis, but also dignity. In a medical model that often generates feelings of being rushed through and treated like a number, Dr. Shvidler is a guy who doesn’t treat conditions, he treats humans.
It’s this combination of kindness, clarity, curiosity and quiet brilliance that brings patients back — and smiling even in the exam chair. In the end, his most potent medicine may be not what is on a prescription pad but what is in his presence.