Dr. Füsun Görözen

Our 11-day-old granddaughter, Elif, developed a terrifying high fever and wouldn't feed. In the middle of the night, Dr. Görözen met us at Acibadem Maslak's ER. While I was panicking, she remained preternaturally calm, examining Elif with hands that seemed to sense more than touch. She diagnosed a serious UTI that required immediate hospitalization. What struck me wasn't just her medical skill—it was how she explained every tube, every monitor, to my terrified daughter in simple Turkish, drawing diagrams on a napkin. She visited Elif four times in 24 hours, once at 3 AM just to adjust an IV drip personally. When Elif finally latched and fed after two days, Dr. Görözen cried with us. She didn't just treat a baby; she healed an entire family's terror.

My 8-year-old son Kaan has severe, complex asthma that baffled three previous specialists. Dr. Görözen approached him not as a chart but as a puzzle partner. During our first consultation, she got down on the floor with his Lego set and built a 'lung model' while asking him about his football games. She designed a treatment plan that involved him tracking his own peak flows with a superhero-themed chart. When he needed a bronchoscopy, she explained the procedure using his favorite video game characters—calling the scope 'the explorer' and the mucus 'the slime monsters.' Post-procedure, she didn't just send a report; she video-called Kaan to show him the actual images of his airways, making him co-author of his own care. For the first time, he sees his asthma as a manageable challenge rather than a life sentence.

As a 72-year-old grandfather raising my orphaned 6-year-old grandson Ali, I brought him for a routine kindergarten checkup. Dr. Görözen noticed Ali flinching when I lifted his shirt—something I'd missed. With exquisite gentleness, she uncovered signs of nutritional deficiencies and developmental delays stemming from grief. She transformed a 15-minute vaccine visit into a two-hour holistic intervention, arranging a nutritionist, play therapist, and support group for grieving children—all within the same hospital visit. But her most profound act was pulling me aside: 'You're doing the hardest work in pediatrics—grandparenting through loss. Let me help you help him.' She now checks on *me* during follow-ups, asking about my arthritis and sleep. She treats our entire fractured family unit.

My teenage daughter Defne, a nationally ranked swimmer, developed sudden cardiac symptoms during training. Multiple doctors dismissed it as 'anxiety.' Dr. Görözen, during a sports physical, spent 45 minutes just listening to Defne describe the 'fluttering' feeling. She ordered a specific type of echocardiogram that others deemed unnecessary, discovering a rare congenital conduction abnormality. The surgery was complex—requiring pediatric cardiology and electrophysiology collaboration. Dr. Görözen didn't just coordinate the team; she created a pre-surgery 'rehearsal' for Defne, using VR goggles to walk her through the OR. Post-op, when Defne feared she'd never swim again, Dr. Görözen brought her own teenage daughter to visit—a volleyball player who'd recovered from similar surgery. That peer connection did more than any medicine. Defne returns to competition next month.