[Nfb-or] blind doctor

Renee Squier squierr at comcast.net
Sun Jun 6 18:32:40 UTC 2010


>       Tim Cordes: one of the few sightless doctors in the country

>       Posted: 04 Jun 2010 07:49 AM PDT

>       It's not uncommon for co-workers to stumble upon Tim Cordes
> (pictured) sitting in the dark.

>       Cordes is blind.

>       As an infant, he was diagnosed with Leber's disease, a rare
> degenerative condition of the retina that gradually steals one's sight.
> Cordes still remembers one of the first times he heard someone trying
> to explain how his impending blindness would affect his life. "Your son
> can be president of the United States, but he's never going to fly a
> plane or drive a car," an ophthalmologist explained to his parents when
> Cordes was about 7.

>       He never did fly a plane or drive a car. In fact, when most of
> his friends in Cedar Falls, Iowa, were learning to drive, a 16-year-old
> Cordes got his first guide dog, a German shepherd named Electra.

>       But Cordes didn't shrink from life. He's now a 34-year-old
> trailblazing physician who is wrapping up the third year of a four-year
> residency program with UW-Madison's department of psychiatry.

>       Cordes has been reticent to share his story, not wanting to
> become a poster boy for overcoming visual disabilities. But he's slowly
> becoming more at ease telling his inspirational tale. Earlier this
> spring, the husband and father of two young boys wowed 450 members of
> the Madison Civics Club with a speech at Monona Terrace titled, "How I
> See Possibilities." In July, he'll give a similar talk in Dallas at the
> National Federation of the Blind's annual convention. And he
> contributed a chapter for a book to be published later this summer by
> the Association of American Medical Colleges that is designed to guide
> medical schools in accommodating students with disabilities. Cordes'
> chapter deals with the use of service animals.

>       Cordes was valedictorian of his class at the University of Notre
> Dame in 1998, posting a 3.99 GPA while earning an undergraduate degree
> in biochemistry and conducting research on antibiotics. He then was
> accepted into the UW School of Medicine and Public Health's medical
> scientist training program, completing the notoriously challenging
> sequence that requires a student to finish both medical school and a
> Ph.D.-level research program.

>       Over the years, Cordes also earned black belts in jujitsu and tae
> kwon do, carried the Olympic torch during its cross-country journey to
> the Salt Lake City Games in 2002, and developed computer software that
> uses a number of musical instruments, varying tones and left-right
> speakers to allow those with vision problems to conceptualize and study
> protein structures.

>       Dr. Brad Schwartz still remembers the paperwork Cordes forwarded
> to the UW Medical School when applying to the medical scientist
> training program.

>       While most attempting to head down this path are high achievers,
> Schwartz says Cordes stood out from the pack due to his Medical College
> Admission Test scores, 3.99 GPA in a demanding major and his
> interesting research on antibiotics. It was a reference letter from a
> Notre Dame researcher, however, that floored Schwartz, who was director
> of the program in the spring of 1998.

>       Schwartz says his admissions review committee agreed Cordes was a
> "one-in-a-million" candidate and assumed "every program in the country
> would be fighting to get him because he was so remarkable."

>       But that wasn't the case. In fact, Cordes applied to eight
> schools, but no one else showed interest. During one med school exit
> interview, doctors and researchers at a rival Big Ten Conference
> institution made it clear to Cordes, who has only a limited amount of
> light perception, that there was no way a blind student could complete
> the school's required coursework and rotations to earn a medical degree.

>       Cordes doesn't appear bitter about these rejections, but his
> mother, Therese Cordes, acknowledges it was a difficult time for her
> son. "To have someone tell Tim he's not good enough, despite all he
> accomplished, was very, very tough on him," she says.

>       Even at UW-Madison, those close to the situation say some top
> medical school administrators were adamantly opposed to admitting
> Cordes. Concerns centered on two factors: the cost to make all the
> necessary accommodations for a blind student; and the fear that the
> Association of American Medical Colleges might frown on a school
> admitting a student who couldn't see.

>       In the end, Schwartz stood his ground against the naysayers and
> Cordes was ultimately one of 143 students earning a slot in med school
> out of 2,300 who applied. Although no official records are kept and
> there are various scales to measure the extent of vision loss,
> published reports in 1998 indicated Cordes was only the second blind
> person ever admitted to a U.S. medical school. The first was David
> Hartman, a 1976 Temple grad and psychiatrist in Virginia whom Cordes
> considers a role model.

>       Some members of the Medical School were guarded about Cordes'
> chances of success at first, says Schwartz. "But I can tell you, each
> year that he went along he won over more and more people," he says. In
> the years to come, Cordes would learn the lessons and complete the
> tasks asked of every other doctor-in-training.

>       In the classroom, he used books on tape and in Braille to learn
> the fundamentals. He also relied heavily on a computer that could read
> downloaded texts and e-mails at a blistering 500 words per minute,
> something Cordes can easily understand but would sound like gibberish
> to someone accustomed to normal-paced speech. The university also
> provided him with a machine "It looks a little like an Easy-Bake oven,"
> says Cordes that makes raised-line drawings so he could interpret
> images using his sense of touch.

>       In the lab, he helped dissect a human cadaver and used his
> fingers to identify the various nerves, muscles and organs. "I was the
> guy who reached into the chest and pulled out the lungs," says Cordes.
> When it came to hospital rotations, he helped deliver babies (earning
> Student of the Year honors in the obstetrics and gynecology rotation),
> observed surgery - "I felt blood flowing through an aorta" - and
> intubated patients during an anesthesiology rotation.

>       The school also hired "visual describers" to tag along with
> Cordes and his seeing-eye dog to help Cordes read paper charts or act
> as his eyes during a physical exam. In 2004, he earned the title of
> medical doctor.

>       His Ph.D. work centered on biomolecular chemistry and the makeup
> of proteins, a field that relies heavily on colorful,
> computer-generated models of complex molecular structures. Out of
> necessity, Cordes wrote a computer program that replicates the 3-D
> images using a range of audio tones and surround-sound speakers,
> allowing him to "visualize" the proteins in his head. In 2007 he earned
> his Ph.D.

>       Although Cordes isn't one to puff out his chest and say "I told
> you so," he is proud of the fact he never allowed others to squash his
> dreams. "Choosing to ignore what other people say, when they say it
> can't be done, is a powerful tool," says Cordes.

>       When Cordes started his medical school journey more than a decade
> ago, he had no desire to work directly with patients. Research was his
> passion, and the medical scientist training program is designed to
> develop people who can bridge the gap between basic research and clinical work.

>       But while working his way through the various rotations during
> his third year of medical school, Cordes started to zero in on a
> specialty and re-think his career options. He knew he couldn't be a
> radiologist but thought any other area was up for grabs. A four-week
> psychiatry rotation at the William S. Middleton Memorial Veterans
> Hospital stood out.

>       While he enjoyed interacting with the patients, Cordes also saw
> the potential to conduct groundbreaking research in the study and
> treatment of mental disorders.

>       So after earning his M.D. and Ph.D., Cordes in 2007 entered a
> four-year, psychiatry research track residency program, which allows
> him to spend time working with patients and conducting research.
> Although he notes there has been no single "ah-ha" moment, Cordes says
> it's becoming clear his desire to work as a clinician and teacher of
> future doctors is stronger than his drive to focus solely on research.

>       Cordes' typical week currently consists of two-and-a-half days at
> the Veterans Hospital, where he helps supervise the medical interns in
> an inpatient psychiatry unit, and one full day of outpatient care at a
> UW Health clinic in University Research Park, where he oversees more
> than 100 patients. He also spends a half-day attending lectures and
> gets one full day for research. His research mainly consists of mining
> data and searching for interesting patterns using the Midlife
> Development in the United States survey, which examines the lives of
> people ages 30 to 70 in such areas as physical health, psychological
> well-being and factors that might lead to mental illness.

>       At the Veterans Hospital, he also worked on a clinical trial
> systematically rating symptoms in patients with post-traumatic stress disorder.

>       While he has a proven track record as a researcher, Cordes is
> also earning kudos as a clinician.

>       Body language and expressions often convey information to
> therapists, but Cordes is able to pick up on these cues despite his
> sight limitations. He says he's "gotten good at listening to people,
> not just what they're saying but hearing how their body moves or what
> direction they're talking in."

>       Colleagues say they can't recall an instance in which a patient
> did not want to be seen by Cordes because he is blind. In fact, says
> Braus, Cordes' disability seemingly allows him to more easily connect
> with patients.

>       It's not easy keeping pace with Cordes, even if you can see.

>       With sprinkles just starting to fall one dreary spring morning,
> Cordes and Vance, his loyal guide dog for the past nine years, walk
> briskly from the bus stop to his office.

>       The ride from near his home on Madison's East Side to UW Health's
> Psychiatric Institute and Clinic, which is across town in University
> Research Park, takes about 40 minutes - not bad considering Cordes has
> to transfer buses on the UW-Madison campus. The jaunt from the final
> stop to the clinic takes about five minutes at a quick pace. Somehow,
> Cordes narrowly misses several potholes on the driveway leading to his
> office. Those who have watched Cordes for years insist he has some sort
> of internal radar.

>       Before long, Cordes is heading up a set of stairs leading to a
> back entrance of the clinic. He scans his security badge to gain entry
> to the facility; it's just past 7 a.m.

>       Using his sharp memory and displaying complete trust in Vance,
> Cordes quickly moves down a hall to his office, drops off his jacket
> and backpack, and heads back down a hallway to separate locked rooms
> that house medical records and the mail. He intuitively slides his hand
> over the keypad security system, and quickly taps out the code. Inside,
> Braille labels allow him to promptly grab the correct patient records and mail.

>       Back in his office, he sets the papers neatly on his desk before
> flipping open his laptop and scanning through e-mails using
> screen-reading software that ticks off the messages in quick order.
> Like clockwork, Jeanne Harris, one of Cordes' visual describers,
> arrives in the office at 7:10 a.m. to read over any faxed-in requests
> for prescription refills or hand-written notes, charts or surveys
> Cordes can't read himself. (For many printed materials, he can take a
> picture of a document with his smart phone, and a program will read it to him.)

>       Ten minutes later, the paperwork is cleared, Vance is resting on
> the floor in the office, and Cordes is preparing for a day of
> numbers-crunching research on his computer.

>       It's easy to be impressed by how efficiently Cordes operates, but
> he wishes others would view it as ordinary. "Just like you, I have a
> job to do and I figured out how to do it," he explains. "To me, it's
> gratifying how profoundly routine this all seems at times."

>       Even those closest to Cordes - the ones who have never doubted
> his potential - confess it's difficult to view this all as merely routine.

>       Therese Cordes still has vivid memories from three decades ago
> when she put a 2-year-old Tim in the car and drove him to meet with the
> University of Iowa's highly regarded pediatric ophthalmologists. The
> experts there gave her little hope, rattling off a list of things her
> only son would never be able to do.

>       Tim Cordes credits his mother for being a rock of emotional
> support over the years, while his father, an engineer, was
> pragmatically supportive, the problem-solver and the one who helped Tim
> get up to speed with many of the technological gizmos he relies on.

>       It also didn't hurt that Cordes was being pushed by two older,
> successful sisters, both of whom were valedictorians of their high
> school class (Tim finished as runner-up during his senior year) before
> also moving on to Notre Dame.

>       What, exactly, the future holds for Cordes isn't clear. After he
> completes the four-year residency program, he's considering additional
> training so he can help people with drug addiction problems. Another
> option is to land a position working with military veterans suffering
> from post-traumatic stress disorder and severe brain injuries, work
> Cordes enjoys and finds rewarding.

>       No matter what direction Cordes ultimately decides to push his
> career, he has no intention of becoming part of what he calls "today's
> risk-averse society."

>       Cordes adds proudly: "I learned to swing on monkey bars, which I
> could not see well, over asphalt. I learned that if you fall it hurts,
> so you try not to fall. But it's still worth swinging."

>       Article Source:
>       The Capital Times

> It is necessary to help others, not only in our prayers, but in our
> daily lives. If we find we cannot help others, the least we can do is
> to desist from harming them.
> Dalai Lama



More information about the NFB-OR mailing list