Remembering a mentor who became so much more

When I opened the Kitsap Sun on October 8, the obituary of a beloved Kitsap physician, Dr. John Stanley, caught my attention. I started crying. Actually, I was sobbing, even though I knew it was coming.

Dr. Stanley was a few months shy of his 100th birthday, but his loss still took me by surprise. For most of my life, I have revered him. Yet, our relationship was about more than childhood admiration. As a young adult and new physician, he was a mentor. And just after I began writing this column six years ago, he became my friend.

When my father joined The Doctors Clinic in 1971, there were just five physicians: Frank Rosendale, Charles (Les) Salmon, Fred Drew, John Stanley and Bill Richardson. I knew all these men as a child, but Dr. Stanley was my favorite. He and his first wife, Margaret, loved children, a quality I appreciated each summer when they hosted a large gathering at their home on Cherry Avenue. Growing up, Dr. Stanley was never afraid of anything, a trait likely honed while serving his country during WWII. Although most physicians shied away from my father after he left TDC in 1986, Dr. Stanley never let business interfere with that personal connection.

I worked at Lamonts department store at the Kitsap Mall during my summer and holiday breaks from college, trying to save up for medical school. Dr. Stanley always made a point to stop by my accessories counter and hear about my educational progress. We talked about my classes, my grades, my MCAT (Medical College Admission Test) scores, and volunteer experience before I applied to medical school.

The summer after graduating from college, I worked as a health educator for the Kitsap Public Health District by day and still went to Lamonts most evenings. Dr. Stanley stopped by my accessories counter on the same day I learned of my last-minute acceptance to the University of Washington School of Medicine. I could hardly contain my excitement. After offering congratulations, we talked about how different my education might be than his was 50 years before.

Medical training kept me away from Kitsap County for nearly a decade, but I ran into Dr. Stanley at Costco a few times when I was home visiting my family. He always inquired about my future plans and offered an encouraging word or two. He thought I should come home to Kitsap County and practice. He shared that his family and serving this community were two of the greatest joys of his life.

And it was during one of my trips to Costco, during late fall 2017, where I began to see Dr. Stanley in a new light. After my father’s unexpected death, countless physicians gave unsolicited advice. They said I could never run my office alone. That I needed a partner to take my father’s place. They suggested working for the hospital was better than owning my clinic.

I never felt more lost in my life than in the days after losing my dad.

Dr. Stanley walked over to me in the book section at Costco and with a twinkle in his eye, asked, “Young lady, I was wondering if you are a doctor or an author?” His smile was the most reassuring thing I had seen in months. I told him I was not sure of anything anymore. I asked him if I had to choose, and he said choice was the one constant life offered us. Then he said, if anyone could do both doctoring and writing, he would bet on me. I appreciated his wisdom that day more than he would ever know.

But it was our final day together, two years later, in the fall of 2019, when we became friends. I ran into Dr. Stanley at a celebration of life held at the Kitsap Golf and Country Club. We both attended alone, so decided to sit together. Of course, he knew everyone in the room. He introduced me to those I did not know as a “doctor-author” whose column in the Kitsap Sun was not to be missed. At one point, he whispered that he thought it took courage to do the work I was doing. I remember thinking he knew a lot more about courage than I did.

We passed the afternoon talking about our families, our community, and our love for medicine. We reminisced about how medicine had changed over the years; and unfortunately, not for the better. I was proud to tell him my office looked a lot like The Doctors Clinic did back in 1971, before I was born. I still used paper charts, talked into a Dictaphone, and saw patients without a computer by my side.

My only misstep of the afternoon occurred when it was time to eat. I offered to prepare him a plate of food before getting my own. After all, he was 95 years old. Offended, he balked. “No. Absolutely not. I can get my own plate!” Embarrassed, I apologized. He accepted my apology, as long as I promised not to underestimate him again.

As the event ended we walked out together. He carefully descended the clubhouse steps and I knew better than to offer him any assistance. Instead, I relished the extra time we had to continue our conversation. Somehow, I instinctively knew there would not be another afternoon quite like this one, spent talking with a man who was first my hero, then a mentor, and finally, my friend. But it is a day I have treasured ever since.

This column is my way of saying goodbye to my friend and to answer his question: I am a doctor and a writer. And it is with your encouragement, and friendship, that I have learned to embrace both.

Dr. Niran Al-Agba is a pediatrician in Silverdale and writes a regular opinion column for the Kitsap Sun. Contact her at niranalagba@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on Kitsap Sun: Remembering a mentor who became so much more