Spec. MD. Yigit Mustafa Ertunc

Our 92-year-old grandmother, Ayşe, was admitted with severe pneumonia that other clinics had struggled to manage. Dr. Ertunc approached her case not just as a pediatrician consulting on an elderly patient with childhood-onset cystic fibrosis complications, but as a historian of her lifelong medical journey. He spent an hour reviewing her 70-year-old treatment records, noticing a pattern others missed. His unconventional adjustment to her nebulizer protocol, based on pediatric dosing principles scaled for her renal function, turned her condition around in 48 hours. He visited her three times daily, often after his official shift ended, just to hold her hand and speak in the gentle tone one uses with children, which she adored. She calls him 'the boy who remembers my childhood lungs.'

When our 3-year-old, Deniz, swallowed a rare-earth magnet from a toy, the ER team was ready for surgery. Dr. Ertunc halted the rush. He recalled a case study about sequential magnet ingestion in toddlers and hypothesized, based on Deniz's vague pointing, that there might be a second magnet. He insisted on a specific lateral X-ray view others deemed unnecessary. It revealed two magnets lodged in adjacent intestinal loops, creating a life-threatening pinch. He then guided the gastroenterologist through a novel, non-surgical extraction using a pediatric endoscope modified with a protective sheath he designed on the spot with a sterile glove and catheter. His calm explanation to us, using a stuffed animal and pipe cleaners, prevented our panic. Deniz left with the magnets in a jar and zero incisions.

Our newborn, Zeynep, failed her routine newborn hearing screen repeatedly. Dr. Ertunc, during her well-baby checkup, didn't just order a repeat test. He noticed a subtle, asymmetrical twitch in her cheek when she cried, a detail unrelated to hearing. This led him to investigate for a very rare neural crest disorder. The diagnosis was confirmed: a mild form of Waardenburg syndrome type IV, affecting her hearing and gut motility. His proactive management included early sign language introduction for us and a preventative bowel protocol before any symptoms arose. His follow-ups are like family catch-ups; he remembers her favorite lullaby (which he hums during exams) and tracks her developmental milestones with a personalized, hand-drawn growth chart featuring cartoon animals. He turned a scary diagnosis into a roadmap.

As wildlife rehabilitators, we brought in an 8-year-old boy, Kaya, who had been rescued from an illegal pet trade situation and had profound medical neglect. He was non-verbal and terrified of stethoscopes. Dr. Ertunc conducted the entire first examination on the floor of his office, using toys instead of instruments. He diagnosed a complex parasitic co-infection and a previously undetected atrial septal defect. The treatment was complex, but his approach was revolutionary: he integrated it into a 'secret agent training game.' Each medicine was a 'power-up,' each echocardiogram a 'sonar scan.' He coordinated with our child psychologist, framing hospital visits as 'missions.' After six months, Kaya's physical health is transformed, and he now runs into the clinic, demanding his 'mission briefing.' Dr. Ertunc didn't just treat a patient; he built a bridge for a child who had lost trust in humans.