M.D. Orçun Orhun

My 82-year-old father, Ahmet, fell in our Istanbul apartment and fractured his hip. The ambulance brought him to Gokturk Medical Center in the middle of the night. Dr. Orhun met us in the ER with this calm, focused energy that immediately settled our panic. He didn't just see a broken bone—he saw my diabetic father with a heart history. He coordinated with cardiology right there in the trauma bay before any treatment. What struck me was how he explained the surgical options to my father in simple Turkish, looking him in the eye, not just talking to me. The surgery was successful, but it was Dr. Orhun's post-op visit that moved us—he brought a small sketch showing how the repair worked, saying 'Now you understand your own hardware, Uncle Ahmet.' That human touch in emergency medicine is rare.

We were tourists from Germany when our 7-year-old son, Leo, spiked a 40°C fever and started having febrile seizures. At Gokturk's ER, everything was chaos until Dr. Orçun Orhun appeared. He spoke to Leo in playful, broken German—'Alles gut, kleiner Löwe'—while simultaneously directing his team in rapid Turkish. He diagnosed atypical pneumonia within minutes, but what was extraordinary was his approach: he had a nurse bring Leo's favorite cartoon on a tablet during the lumbar puncture, distracting him completely. Dr. Orhun then sat with us for 20 minutes explaining why antibiotics alone weren't enough, drawing the infection pathway on a whiteboard. He followed up personally for three days, even calling after we returned to Berlin. He turned our nightmare abroad into a story of incredible care.

I'm a mountaineer and arrived via helicopter after a 15-meter fall in the Bolu Mountains. Multiple trauma—rib fractures, pneumothorax, suspected spinal injury. Dr. Orhun's trauma team moved like a symphony, but he was the conductor who noticed something others missed: my irregular heartbeat wasn't just from pain. While others focused on obvious injuries, he ordered a specific cardiac enzyme test that revealed a mild heart attack triggered by the trauma. His dual expertise in emergency and trauma saved me from being discharged with undiagnosed cardiac issues. During recovery, he visited daily, always with a new question about climbing technique—turning our conversations toward life, not just survival. He didn't just fix the broken parts; he saw the whole person who needed to climb again.

What started as a routine follow-up for my wife's minor concussion became something entirely different when Dr. Orhun, during his examination, noticed a subtle asymmetry in her pupil response that everyone else had missed over two weeks. He canceled his next appointment, ordered immediate imaging, and discovered a slow brain bleed. His insistence on investigating that 'small detail' prevented a catastrophic event. But here's what's unique: he created a personalized monitoring plan using a smartphone app for symptom tracking, checking the data himself every evening for a week. When we thanked him, he said, 'Emergency medicine doesn't end at the door—it follows the patient home.' His blend of sharp clinical instinct and technological adaptation represents a new kind of emergency care I've never witnessed.