Sharing by Assoc. Prof. Võ Tấn Sơn, MD, PhD
Professor Hối
We entered the University of Medicine and Pharmacy at Ho Chi Minh City in 1976, the very first class after the reunification of the country.
In those days, training was structured around "preliminary specialties," meaning the sixth year was dedicated entirely to studying a chosen and assigned specialty, with the diploma clearly stating "preliminary specialist physician in..."
Upon graduating in late 1981, all five of us who studied "neurosurgery" went to work at the Neurosurgery Department of Chợ Rẫy Hospital. Three of us were on the hospital's payroll, and two belonged to the university, including myself.
Teacher Lê Xuân Trung was both the head of the department at the hospital and the head of the academic chair at the university. Doctor Trương Văn Việt—whom we affectionately called Brother Việt—served as Teacher Trung's deputy (now an Associate Professor, former head of the academic chair, and former director of Chợ Rẫy Hospital).
After we settled into our work, Teacher Trung organized and "compelled" us to pursue Level 1 specialization.
The graduation exam included a section on general surgery. The chair professor announced: "Responsible for this part is Teacher... of the Department of Surgery." That was the first time I heard that name, back in 1984.
On exam day, he gave the question: "Blunt abdominal trauma."
Since my second year of medical school, I had frequented the emergency department at Chợ Rẫy Hospital, "following the senior doctors" to examine patients, make diagnoses, and assist in surgeries. At some point, "the seniors" allowed me to perform emergency procedures and take on specific steps during major surgeries... After every encounter with pathological conditions I didn't yet know, I would go to the library to read books, bringing back anything I didn't understand to ask "the seniors." With that style of learning, my school exam scores were usually not high, but I felt I firmly grasped the issues and—later when I started working—this approach proved extremely effective in handling practical tasks.
Blunt abdominal trauma was a topic I cared deeply about, encountered frequently in practice, read extensively on, and could diagnose myself while on neurosurgical duty at the emergency department. Therefore, when writing the exam, I felt completely at ease, incorporating real details and scenarios to illustrate my points... As always, I figured I certainly wouldn't fail, but my score wouldn't be high either. When the results were announced, my paper scored a 9—the highest in the class!
To be honest, when studying (and even now), I only cared about absorbing knowledge so I could apply it in practice. So when I learned my score this time, I immediately thought of the person who wrote the questions and graded the paper. Discussing "blunt abdominal trauma" is both vast and highly specific. Anyone who has ever diagnosed internal abdominal bleeding or a hollow viscus rupture following blunt abdominal trauma—especially in multiple trauma patients with reduced consciousness due to traumatic brain injury (at that time, we only had clinical examination, abdominal X-rays, complete blood count/hematocrite tests, and diagnostic peritoneal lavage)—will realize how crucial it is to classify anatomical lesions, common syndromes, and pathophysiological progressions to determine symptoms, indications for paraclinical tests, and appropriate treatment attitudes. Furthermore, grading a paper that did not follow a "standard outline" and yet awarding it a high score showed that this "teacher" possessed an admirable level of education, practical experience, and courage. That was how I came to know and be impressed by Teacher.
In 1992, while studying at the Hospital Center of the University of Tours in France, Teacher visited the hospital and looked for me during a business trip in his capacity as Vice Rector and Dean of the Faculty of Medicine. Unfortunately, that morning I was out of town handling paperwork and couldn't meet him. At the time, a colleague from our university studying in another city had been detained. Those of us studying in France were extremely worried and had reason to believe the situation stemmed from "underlying issues." By evening, I called him and poured out everything I knew. I urged him, while he was present in France, to speak with the Vietnamese Embassy as well as the Organization of Francophone Medical School Deans—he was attending the organization's annual meeting. After listening to me—likely with an expression of agitation—he advised me to remain calm and try to look at the issue from all angles... For me, this was a lesson in prudence and calmness when faced with "heated" situations that a surgeon might easily fall prey to, though he certainly did not. Subsequent events aligned entirely with his measured stance at the time. Our colleague returned home safely and was assigned a position by Teacher that perfectly suited his abilities and strengths.
Around 1995–1996, Teacher suffered from severe cervical spine and arm pain. Doctor Lê Văn Quang, my classmate (now Deputy Director of Thống Nhất Hospital), a student and close confidant of Teacher at the time (who was helping him build and operate the University of Medicine and Pharmacy Clinic, the precursor to today's UMC), asked me to join the treatment and care team for Teacher. From then on, I met Teacher more frequently.
In 2000 and 2001, I fell ill. While I was hospitalized, Teacher showed his concern, and upon discharge, he arranged for my hospital fees to be completely waived—a substantial sum of money. When I later took charge of the hospital, I appreciated his kindness and moral courage even more in making such a decision for me.
In 2006, Teacher spoke to me about a Ministry of Health hospital in Ho Chi Minh City that needed a director because the incumbent was approaching retirement. Teacher intended for me to take on this role. I was moved when Teacher spoke to me, thinking I was only suited for clinical work, while management was "not my calling." Teacher had seen some latent capability in me. Although the matter did not materialize, I have always remembered his evaluation of me when recommending me for a vital position in the healthcare sector.
Some time later, Teacher suffered a spinal injury while exercising. Pain "tortured" him for a considerable period. We tried every possible treatment method, from conventional medications to "vertebroplasty" (bone cement injection performed by foreign experts) and local anesthetic nerve blocks... none yielded long-lasting effectiveness. Fortunately, colleagues at FV Hospital invited specialists from Switzerland. Using radiofrequency ablation to destroy the posterior branch of the spinal nerve, just a single treatment course cured him completely, and he has remained pain-free ever since.
In 2009 and 2010, I was appointed Rector and Hospital Director. By this time, Teacher had retired, but he still served as an advisor to the hospital. His work was entirely self-directed. Yet whenever he was absent, he would still submit a formal leave request, even though I had told him it was unnecessary. He deeply respected the younger generation when they held executive positions. During my tenure, Teacher and Professor Phước (I succeeded Professor and Doctor Đặng Vạn Phước as rector, continuing the work of Associate Professor and Doctor Phan Chiến Thắng as hospital director) never once "interfered" with the work. This is a highly admirable cultural trait at UMC, of which Teacher was the pioneer. Looking back today at a few "everyday" memories with Teacher, I was startled: more than thirty years have passed! Nearly half a human lifetime! Our generation is now at retirement age, while Teacher belongs to those of "rare longevity"!
Everything will eventually pass, but what remains is the value of a person, along with their contributions and deep affection for those around them. A father once advised his child: "You can live well with others, be loyal to them, but never expect them to treat you the way you treated them. If you understand that, you will find peace in life, and that is what I want you to grasp as you step out into the world. Who knows if there is an afterlife. If there is, meeting again will be very difficult. So right now, live kindly with everyone around you..."
Whenever I think of Professor and Doctor Nguyễn Đình Hối, People's Teacher, former Rector of UMC, and the first Director of UMC Hospital, those very thoughts rise to the forefront of my mind.
Assoc. Prof. Võ Tấn Sơn, MD, PhD – Former Board of Management
(The night of April 13, 2016, on a long flight to Frankfurt)