Prof. M.D. Özlem Aydoğ

Our 72-year-old mother, who has complex health issues including childhood-onset asthma and recent heart complications, was hospitalized with a severe respiratory infection. As a pediatrician, Dr. Aydoğ was not her primary physician, but she visited daily after noticing our 8-year-old daughter's distress in the family waiting area. She spent hours explaining pediatric aspects of hereditary conditions to us in Turkish and English, drew diagrams of how grandma's old illnesses might affect future generations, and coordinated with the adult pulmonologist to create a family health roadmap. She didn't have to do this—her compassion transcended specialty boundaries. We now understand our family's medical tapestry in ways no adult specialist ever explained.

Our newborn Leo, born at 35 weeks, failed his routine hearing screening repeatedly. What followed was a diagnostic odyssey that Dr. Aydoğ navigated with forensic precision. Instead of just referring us to ENT, she conducted her own investigation: tracking my pregnancy food logs, analyzing genetic reports from my husband's side (discovering a recessive gene from his great-grandfather), and even noticing a correlation between Leo's subtle startle responses and specific low-frequency sounds. She discovered a rare auditory neuropathy spectrum disorder that typically gets missed for years. Her approach wasn't just pediatrics; it was medical detective work that will shape Leo's entire developmental trajectory. She cried with us when we got the diagnosis—not from sadness, but from the relief of finally having answers.

During a Saturday evening emergency visit for our 5-year-old's suspected appendicitis, the CT was inconclusive. Dr. Aydoğ, who'd been on duty since morning, did something extraordinary. She remembered a case study about migratory abdominal pain in children with atypical anatomy. She personally wheeled the ultrasound machine back into the room, spent 45 minutes scanning every quadrant while telling my daughter stories about 'treasure hunting in tummy land.' She found an inflamed Meckel's diverticulum—a congenital remnant—that was mimicking appendicitis. The pediatric surgeon confirmed it minutes before planned surgery. She didn't just save my daughter from unnecessary surgery; her meticulousness revealed an anatomical quirk that will inform her care for life. Emergency rooms need more doctors who treat ambiguity as a puzzle, not a nuisance.

For three years, we've brought our twins for routine checkups—one neurotypical, one with undiagnosed developmental delays. Dr. Aydoğ created a 'parallel growth chart' comparing not just percentiles, but interaction patterns, sensory responses, and even how each twin reacted to the other's vaccinations. Last month, during what seemed like a standard 3-year visit, she noticed the delayed twin had developed an asymmetrical palmar crease only visible when holding certain toys. This subtle clue led to a genetic test revealing a mosaic chromosomal variation affecting only some cells. Her follow-up protocol involves not quarterly visits, but monthly video submissions of play sessions she reviews personally. She treats routine care as continuous surveillance, finding patterns in ordinary moments that others would miss entirely.