Patient Experience
My 82-year-old father, Ahmet, was told by three other hospitals that his aortic valve replacement was too risky due to his age and mild dementia. Dr. Sezer reviewed his case with what I can only describe as revolutionary calm. He didn't see a 'risky elderly patient', he saw a specific anatomical challenge and created a tailored minimally invasive approach. The surgery lasted under two hours. Three days later, Baba was walking the hospital corridors, humming old Turkish folk songs. Dr. Sezer's team even accommodated his dementia by using consistent nurses and a special clock in his room. It wasn't just surgery; it was dignity preservation.
Our 9-year-old daughter, Elif, was born with a ventricular septal defect that was 'monitored' for years. During a routine checkup that we expected to be another 'wait and see,' Dr. Sezer studied her new echocardiogram with intense focus for a full ten minutes of silence. He then drew us a simple diagram on his notepad, explaining why the pressure gradients had shifted subtly, making now the ideal surgical window before pulmonary changes became irreversible. His ability to explain complex pediatric cardiology using cartoon-like drawings of her heart won our terrified child's trust. The surgery was flawless, and his follow-up included a video call with Elif to show her her 'fixed heart' picture. He treats children like small scientists, not just patients.
I'm a 47-year-old marathon runner who went to the emergency room with what I thought was severe indigestion after a race. The ER doctor looked grave and called Dr. Sezer at 11 PM. I had a dissecting ascending aortic aneurysm, a 'widowmaker.' Dr. Sezer arrived within 25 minutes, still in casual clothes, and explained the situation with terrifying clarity but zero panic. 'Your marathon fitness is your biggest asset right now,' he said. The emergency surgery happened that night. What stands out is how he managed the psychological terror. He had his assistant bring my running shoes into the ICU after I woke up, placing them where I could see them, a tangible symbol of the future he was fighting for. That detail meant more than any medical jargon.
My case was considered 'elective', a mitral valve repair scheduled months out. But for me, a 58-year-old violin maker, the increasing fatigue was stealing my craft. At my pre-op appointment, instead of just discussing the procedure, Dr. Sezer asked detailed questions about the physical demands of my work: the pressure of holding tools, the fine finger movements. He modified his surgical plan slightly to better preserve a specific minor chest muscle group he said would affect my posture at the workbench. No other surgeon had ever asked about my job beyond 'office or manual.' The surgery was textbook, but the recovery was personalized. His physio recommendations were specifically for luthiers. I was back carving spruce tops eight weeks post-op. He doesn't just fix hearts; he fixes lives.