M.D. Mazlum Batu

My 4-year-old daughter swallowed a small toy part and was choking. We rushed to Acibadem Kartal in panic. Dr. Mazlum Batu met us at the ER entrance—he was already briefed by the nurses. His calm was contagious. He didn't just treat her; he explained each step to her in a gentle, story-like way, calling the extraction 'finding the hidden treasure.' He had her giggling through her tears. He found the plastic piece lodged deep. What could have been a traumatic memory became one where my daughter now says she wants to be a doctor 'like the story-teller uncle.' His combination of speed, skill, and profound empathy for a frightened child is something I've never witnessed.

I'm a 78-year-old with a complex cardiac history. I came in for what I thought was severe indigestion. Dr. Batu, during a routine triage assessment, noticed a subtle asymmetry in my facial muscles I hadn't. He bypassed the standard 'geriatric abdominal pain' protocol entirely. He ordered an immediate CT angiogram, against initial nursing skepticism, insisting on ruling out a dissecting aortic aneurysm. He was right. It was a rare, slow leak. In the OR, he coordinated with vascular surgery seamlessly. He visited me every day post-op, not just checking vitals, but explaining the physiology of my repair in simple terms. He treated my age not as a limitation, but as a library of medical history to be consulted. He didn't save my life by following a checklist; he saved it by truly seeing me.

I was the victim of a multi-vehicle pile-up on the highway. Brought in unconscious with multiple blunt force traumas. My family later told me Dr. Batu's approach was like a conductor in a symphony of chaos. He didn't shout; he assigned roles with pinpoint clarity. He identified a tension pneumothorax clinically before the X-ray even developed, performing a needle decompression right in the trauma bay. But the unique part? While his team worked, he periodically spoke to me, assuming I could hear. 'We're with you. Pressure's coming up. Your family is on the way.' My wife heard him say this. That human connection, maintained in the midst of saving a life, is what separates a technician from a healer. My recovery was long, but it started with his voice in the dark.

As a competitive marathon runner, I visited for a follow-up on a severe ankle fracture he'd treated months prior. This wasn't a standard 'how's the pain' visit. Dr. Batu had me walk, jog in place, and do single-leg balances. He analyzed my gait not for healing, but for return-to-sport readiness. He then spent 20 minutes drawing biomechanical diagrams on a whiteboard, showing how my compensation patterns could lead to a future knee or hip injury. He prescribed a specific proprioceptive rehab protocol, not just generic physio. He said, 'My job isn't done when the bone is fused. It's done when you cross your next finish line safely.' He redefined follow-up care for me—it was a strategic planning session for my body's future, not a glance at the past.