Assoc. Prof. M.D. Hepsen Mine Serin

Our 92-year-old grandmother, who has outlived three cardiologists, developed a perplexing pediatric complication from a childhood illness we thought was ancient history. Dr. Serin didn't just treat a symptom; she treated a medical ghost. She cross-referenced faded immunization records from the 1930s with modern genomic markers, explaining how latent varicella was manifesting as neuralgia in a centenarian body. Her consultation felt like watching a historian, detective, and scientist work simultaneously. At Acıbadem Kadıköy, she coordinated with geriatrics to create a treatment plan respectful of both her age and the anomaly's origin. We didn't know pediatrics could stretch across a century.

My 8-year-old son, a competitive junior freediver, presented with what other clinics called 'performance anxiety' after he developed syncope during breath-hold training. Dr. Serin immediately recognized it wasn't psychological—it was a physiological paradox. She discovered he had a rare, benign cardiac shunt that only manifested under extreme apnea, a condition typically seen in marine mammals, not children. Her approach was methodical: she mapped his dive profiles, consulted with a marine biologist, and designed a gradual desensitization protocol instead of banning the sport he loves. She didn't just keep him safe; she preserved his identity as a young athlete.

During what should have been a routine 18-month checkup for my daughter, Dr. Serin noticed her subtly favoring her left hand while stacking blocks—a detail so minute I'd missed it entirely. This triggered a cascade of investigations that revealed a benign but strategically located arachnoid cyst pressing on motor pathways. The 'follow-up visit' became a neurological roadmap. Dr. Serin's language was pure poetry of precision: she explained neural plasticity using origami metaphors and growth charts that looked like constellation maps. Surgery at Acıbadem was a success, but it was her pre-emptive observation that felt like medical clairvoyance.

We arrived at the emergency department with our 4-year-old who had swallowed a 'surprise' magnetic toy part. The situation was tense, but Dr. Serin transformed panic into a calm, collaborative puzzle. Instead of just ordering imaging, she had my child draw what he thought the object looked like inside his belly—a drawing that accidentally revealed he'd swallowed TWO magnets, not one. This child's artwork changed the clinical approach entirely. Her emergency intervention felt like guided discovery; she made my scared preschooler feel like a co-investigator in his own rescue. The procedure was technically flawless, but the psychological care was what we'll remember forever.