An Encounter with Dr. Michael DeBakey

I remember when Drs. Christiaan Barnard of South Africa and Michael DeBakey of Texas performed ground-breaking heart surgeries within hours of each other in 1967. Then in December of that year, both men made a joint appearance on a television show called "Face the Nation." Dr. Barnard seemed cool and distant, while Dr. DeBakey was utterly entertaining, laughing and making jokes throughout the interviews. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

While watching Dr. DeBakey's antics, it occurred to me that it would be fun to get a chance to talk with him even for a few minutes. But I knew as soon as I thought about it that the idea was completely impossible. I lived in Colorado, he was in Texas. He was a heart surgeon and I had a perfectly good heart. And we certainly did not travel in the same social circles. I dismissed the thought as one of those impossible dreams, but kept track of his activities as well as I could.

Years went by. I was running a resume and writing service in 1984. Late one afternoon I answered my telephone. The male voice on the other end of the line introduced himself, then told me the name he gave me was not his real name. He went on to say that he was looking for someone to do minor editing on a book he had written about how to run a small business, something he said he had had quite a lot of experience with, having run his own medical practice.

I asked him if he had ever published a book before. He said yes, but that it was a medical textbook. He joked that while it had been a success as textbooks go, he had not made much money with it. He knew a couple who had made a small fortune self-publishing a book about starting and running a mail-order business, and he wanted to try his hand at it.

The conversation went on. He was absolutely charming with a wonderful sense of humor. He mentioned that he had a medical practice in Texas, and finally let it slip that he was a heart surgeon.

I began to try to put the pieces together. It all sounded familiar, but I was still unwilling to believe what the hints he had dropped really meant. Then he said, "I guess you know by now that I'm Michael DeBakey."

My mouth and my brain suddenly went in separate directions. I could not believe that the impossible little wish from so many years ago had actually come true. I wanted to tell him the story, to explain why I had suddenly become tongue-tied. I wanted to tell him that I would edit the book for free just for the privilege of meeting him. But nothing came out of my mouth except for vague responses to his next comments. Eventually, sounding a little confused by my sudden inability to express myself, he said he would keep me in mind, said good-bye and hung up. I never heard back from him, but after my reaction to his announcement, I understood it. I don't know if he ever published his book. I hope so. It would have been good.

I never forgot that brief conversation with Dr. Michael DeBakey. He was exactly the man I had seen on television, warm and personable with an infectious laugh. I wish I had told him the story of the fleeting thought. I think he would have enjoyed it. And he might have understood why I suddenly could not put a sentence together.

I learned something else that day. Beware of those fleeting thoughts. They just might come true.

Good-bye, Dr. DeBakey. I will miss you.