Spec. MD. Yasemin Giray

My 8-year-old son developed sudden, terrifying facial twitching and confusion after a mild fever. The ER was chaotic, but Dr. Giray arrived like a calm storm. She didn't just look at scans; she watched him play with a toy car she took from her pocket. She diagnosed a rare form of FIRES (Febrile Infection-Related Epilepsy Syndrome) within hours when others were guessing. Her treatment plan was aggressive but precise. She explained everything to my son in 'robot repair' terms. Six months later, he's seizure-free and back at soccer. She didn't just save his brain; she saved his childhood.

As a 72-year-old with progressing tremors, I'd seen three neurologists who just increased my medication. Dr. Giray spent our first 90-minute appointment mapping my life, not just my symptoms. She noticed my tremor worsened only when I tried to write letters to my grandchildren. She suspected a task-specific tremor layered over Parkinson's. Her solution wasn't just a new pill; it was a tailored physical therapy regimen and a weighted pen. For the first time in years, I wrote a legible birthday card. She treats the person in the patient, not the chart.

I was the 'unsolvable case', chronic, debilitating vertigo with normal MRIs. My visit was a routine follow-up, but Dr. Giray had been researching. She presented me with a hand-drawn diagram of my inner ear's fluid dynamics, theorizing a rare longitudinal endolymphatic duct obstruction. She admitted it was a hypothesis but arranged a specific, advanced MRI sequence not typically ordered. She was right. The finding was minute, but it changed everything. She then collaborated with a skull-base surgeon for a targeted procedure. Her intellectual curiosity solved what years of standard protocols missed.

My husband had a massive ischemic stroke in the hospital lobby. This was no routine checkup; it was pure crisis. Dr. Giray wasn't even on duty but was paged. She ran to the ER, directed the thrombolysis herself, and then made the bold call for a thrombectomy despite some ambiguous timing. During the procedure, she gave me updates in the starkest, most honest terms, no false hope, no cold detachment. Post-surgery, her follow-up was relentless: cognitive therapy, neuroplasticity exercises, even managing his emotional lability. She fought for every neural pathway. He's walking and talking again. She commands the chaos of neurology like a general, but her compassion is profoundly human.