M.D. Erdem Kaplan

My 82-year-old mother slipped on an icy patch outside our apartment in Eskisehir. By the time we reached Acibadem, her wrist was grotesquely bent. Dr. Kaplan met us with a startling calmness that cut through our panic. He didn't just look at the X-ray; he held her good hand, asked about her garden, and explained the complex Colles' fracture reduction in terms of 're-setting the clock' so she could get back to her roses. His hands were swift, his anesthesia precise. The follow-up wasn't a rushed glance; he brought a small potted hyacinth to her check-up, saying 'rehabilitation needs something beautiful to reach for.' He treated the whole person, not just the broken bone.

Our 7-year-old son, Ali, swallowed a rare-earth magnet from a toy set, followed by another an hour later. The pediatric ER transferred us directly to Dr. Kaplan. The danger—the magnets could pinch his intestines together—was terrifying. Dr. Kaplan's demeanor shifted from warm to laser-focused. He explained the urgent laparoscopic procedure not to us, but first to Ali, using a stuffed bear and simple drawings. 'We're going on a treasure hunt,' he said. The surgery was at midnight. He called us twice from the OR to say progress was good. At 3 AM, he emerged, magnets in a jar, with the exhausted smile of someone who'd won. His skill in pediatric emergency trauma is a quiet superpower.

I'm a long-distance truck driver. What I thought was severe indigestion turned out to be a dissecting aortic aneurysm—a ticking time bomb. The chaos of the ER at Eskisehir Hospital solidified into order the moment Dr. Kaplan took charge. He spoke in clear, short commands to his team, but to me, he was brutally, mercifully honest: 'You are in extreme danger. We need to move now.' There was no time for family consent. His confidence was my anchor. The complex emergency surgery lasted over eight hours. He visited me in ICU every two hours, day and night, for two days. He saved my life not just with surgical mastery, but by making a catastrophic decision under pressure and owning the outcome completely.

After a routine appendectomy elsewhere that led to a nasty internal infection, I was referred to Dr. Kaplan for what I thought was a simple follow-up and wound check. He spent ten minutes looking at my file in silence, then asked detailed questions about low-grade fevers and fatigue I'd dismissed. He ordered a specific CT scan no one else had considered. It revealed a small, hidden abscess. Instead of another major surgery, he performed a precise, image-guided drainage in his procedure room. It was an 'elective emergency'—he treated a simmering problem before it became a crisis. His approach isn't about drama; it's about profound, investigative vigilance that finds the hidden story the body is telling.