Kenneth Viste, Jr. M.D.

This post is an exception to our usual blog posts.  The usual aim of this blog is to share my experience and knowledge so that you may have as much information as possible to help in case you have:

• Nasal obstruction
• Deviated septum
• Enlarged turbinates
• Unhappiness  about the appearance of your nose

Rather than devote this blog to that education, we wanted to share the recent passing of a friend. Below you will see the connection between my choice of medical specialty and him.

In medical school, in the class ahead of us, was an extraordinary man:  Ken Viste, Jr. He was one of the last of our generation (slightly pre-“Baby Boomer”) to have contracted polio at age 13 in 1955.  It left him a paraplegic confined to a wheelchair.  But none of that kept Ken from finishing college and then medical school.

Ken was an extraordinary person in terms of his achievements in the medical world.  It is not easy to go through medical school in a wheelchair.  All of us take for granted all our faculties.  To participate in surgery, physical examinations, and the conduct of anesthesia are a lot tougher when you cannot stand up.

We became close with Ken when we worked together on the same “service” at one of our medical school’s teaching hospitals.  On the service were one resident, two interns, and two senior students, known as “sub-interns.” Your truly was one of the two sub-interns.  All five of us worked very closely.  It was a great team we had assembled.  We learned a lot, enjoyed the experience, and particularly enjoyed each other’s company.

Despite the rigors of being an intern, Ken never complained.  He always had a good sense of humor and, of course, engendered tremendous respect and appreciation from our patients.

While a sub-intern, Ken used to razz me about my interest in matters cosmetic.  He often said, “Hey, you’re gonna go and do rhinoplasties, facelifts, blepharoplasties and correct deviated septums?  Hey, that’s not real medicine.  You’re too smart to do that stuff.”

We appreciated the compliment, but I never felt that engaging in cosmetic plastic surgery procedures required any less study and diligence.

We kept up with Ken, and even saw him at one of the medical school reunions about four years ago.  Recently, I read of his passing in the university’s alumni magazine.  I sent a note to his widow along with a charitable contribution in his memory.

We quote from her response:

Dear Robert,

 I am sorry to be so late with this heartfelt thank you for your lovely letter and the gift you made to the Leukemia Research Foundation in Ken’s memory.  Our entire family thanks you for your very kind and personal expression of sympathy.  Over 1,200 cards, calls, and visits containing words of comfort and memory of Ken have helped us through this most difficult time. 

We have found great solace in knowing that Ken will continue to live in so many hearts in addition to our own. 

Warmest Regards,

Jan

Can you imagine 1,200 expressions of sympathy! The man touched many, many hearts in his too-short life.

Finally, we should note that Ken, besides being an exemplary physician, became very active in medical organizations.  He became:

• The President of the Wisconsin State Medical Society
• Served on the alumni board of the medical school
• Innumerable other professional organizations

A difficult life, yet one well-lived.

Ken was, and will always be, one of my personal heroes.

(Read “Three Miles by Wheelchair” on Dr. Viste’s  memorial website.)