La broncemia, una enfermedad de la medicina moderna | Francisco Occhiuzzi | TEDxCórdoba

I am going to talk to you today
about a made-up disease.

I say "made-up" because you won't find it
in any medical dictionary.

The disease is called "bronzemia,"

and it is said that doctors who have it,

as, etymologically, "bronzemia" would be
about the amount of bronze in blood,

those doctors suffering from it,

as years go by,

when they start to get a bronze invasion,

they start to see themselves as heroes

and they dream that one day
their bronze statue

will be placed in the hospital or clinic
in which they worked.

I heard this term at least 30 years ago

from Dr. Feijóo Osorio,

a well-known doctor from Córdoba,

who worked as a surgeon
at Hospital de Clínicas, here in Córdoba,

in which Narciso Hernández
was also an assistant professor,

because many attribute the term
"bronzemia" to Narciso Hernández.

But since I discovered it,
I have used it in my teaching,

and the word got stuck with me forever.

Narciso Hernández said
the bronzemia patient underwent 2 stages.

The first one was "importantitis",

in which he believed to be so important
that no one was better than him.

The second one was "immortalitis."

When the patient reached
the terminal stage

and when bronze invaded his whole body,

he believed then that
he was an olympic, immortal statue.

Where does one find this disease?

Well, generally in those places

that boast about their high level
of intellectuality

and its ideal habitat
is undoubtedly the academia.

Critical cases have also been found

in courts, big hospitals,

scientific societies, companies,

in renowned sport institutions,

and, forgive me for saying this,

as I was told during lunch yesterday,
also in the political elites.

And it seems like it is precisely
in the political elites,

apparently due to
a lack of historical evidence,

that the arrogance and grandiosity
characteristic of the "bronzemiac"

manifest in the politician
in a spontaneous way.

Another important factor is age.

Generally, the first symptoms appear
at the ages of 45, 55,

but the most serious cases

happen between the ages of 55 and 65,

which is when men,

in their desire to expound on
and talk about things

that they have read about
in a generally shallow way

is in inverse relation to their age

and their ability to understand
and discern.

Gender is also important.

It was believed
that it was mainly a male thing;

but I think that now
with the surge of feminism,

if we were to do new, specific statistics,

we would find a great number
of women with bronzemia.

And all authors agree
that bronzemia in women

has always been an extremely serious case

that is practically incurable.

(Laughter)

There are 3 main common symptoms
of the bronzemiac:

mental diarrhea,

(Laughter)

conversational deafness

and the cephalocaudal reflex.

Mental diarrhea is characterized
by exaggerated verbosity

in which the bronzemiac talks endlessly
about everything his brain defecates.

The patient generally speaks upright

as if they were talking
from a pulpit or at a lectern.

Conversational deafness
always accompanies mental diarrhea.

When the patient talks,
and talks, and talks,

his ears do not listen to anything.

When the bronzemiac talks,
he listens to nobody.

And the cephalocaudal reflex

gives him that peculiar stride

with his head held high, an erected butt
due to the bronze impregnation,

and some authors say

that bronze first starts
to accumulate in their feet

and then goes up
until it reaches the brain.

If this were true,

it would probably justify the fact

that bronzemiacs,
as soon as the disease starts,

instead of walking,
transpose themselves elegantly.

(Laughter)

I thought that bronzemia
was a current thing,

but it's not.

Let me tell you about it.

Around the year 1500 B.C.,

in ancient India, society was divided

into 5 castes,

with the Untouchables as the fifth one.

They did not have any kind of right,

not even the right to medical care.

The fourth caste

was that of lower workers,

the third one was that of the merchants,

the second caste
was the caste of the Anvasta,

to which doctors belonged,

and the first caste were the kings.

These two,

the first and second castes,

claimed they descended from the gods.

I believe that perhaps
some of the doctors with bronzemia

really do believe they come from the gods.

Later in the history of medicine,

we have the famous Galen.

Galen of Pergamon was a doctor
in Imperial Rome

in the year 162, and he was a bronzemiac,

an incorrigible egomaniac.

He would constantly
talk about his great income,

his fame,

and when he cured patients,
he made it seem like something miraculous

so people would be even more impressed.

But in modern times,

I am sure that all of us,

in our place of work,

whatever that may be,

I'm sure that we have to coexist
with bronzemiacs.

I would like to tell you something
very specific and ahead of time.

Many authors say one of the first symptoms
that bronzemiacs get

is starting to lose the ability to smile.

I will not keep talking
about the symptoms of bronzemia

but I believe
it is important to say in this talk

what we can do to prevent
our young doctors

or our young people
from getting bronzemia.

I believe that we can only,

with all our effort,

try to fill their brains, their minds,

with the desire to help their colleagues,

their collaborators,

their patients.

To sow within them

the spirit of service, so it can blossom.

And I want to state the difference
between service and the spirit of service.

I remember that many years ago

when I was working on my doctorate thesis
in the experimental surgery room,

I saw a rabbit pulling the stitches
out of another rabbit's back.

We had operated on its back.

This behaviour, an animal pulling out
another one's stitches,

is not strange in the animal kingdom.

Even animals from different species

pull thorns or strange bodies
out of one another.

What this rabbit was doing

was a service to the other rabbit.

Because that is what service is.

It's an act which can be instinctive
and lacking thought.

On the other hand, the spirit of service

is the profound desire to satisfy
those who need us.

It's not an act; it's an attitude,
a function of life.

If young doctors

are not training to take in passionately
the spirit of service,

they are training themselves
to catch bronzemia.

We were talking about
the spirit of service,

and the way to encourage it,

but I cannot decree these things
to my young doctors.

I cannot tell them

"As of tomorrow, think this way."

"As of tomorrow,
start loving your patients."

That is not possible,

but we can help them
by being an example every day,

so that it can take root in their hearts,

in their most urgent desire

to help their colleagues, their patients.

I am going to tell you a story,
so that you can remember this.

There is a famous painter

who had had an exhibition called
"The doors of the heart."

It was about doors of different colors.

The exhibition was a success,

beautiful doors, mixed colors,

but there was someone in the room

who'd stand in each door,

look at it and move on to the next one.

Suddenly, he stands in front of one.

The painter is right next to him.

So, he humbly says:

"Excuse me, you see,
the doors you paint are beautiful,

but I'm a locksmith

and I'd like to give you
my humble opinion.

I see that your doors have no handles,

how do you open them?"

And the painter says:

"See, I've been thinking about it
for many years

but the doors of the heart
have no latch outside

because they are only
opened from the inside."

I am sure that

you have coexisted
with bronzemia-infected doctors,

and I imagine that any of you
can come up here

and tell us about your experience
with a bronzemia patient

of any profession.

I am going to tell you
what Bernie was asked,

despite being a pioneer
of the mind-body medicine,

by three terminal patients,

young people who died a few days later

when Bernie told them:

"What do you want me
to say to the young doctors?

Because now I have to speak
at their graduation ceremony.

What message do you want me to give them?"

These patients told him:

"To knock on the door
before coming into our room,

to wave and say goodbye
to us when they leave,

and to look at us in our eyes
when they speak to us."

None of them asked
to find a cure for their disease,

they only asked for respect,
they only wanted respect.

And I end this talk with that impasse
characteristic of my age.

I am going to tell you a true story.

It takes place in an operating room,

during long surgery.

The surgery is taking long,

and suddenly, one of the nurses
has to be replaced

and as she is leaving,

she walks behind the surgeon,

a man renowned for his spirit of service.

She walks behind him,

strokes his back,
gives him a kiss and leaves.

To the surgeon, this was a beautiful gift.

A beautiful gift because this included
all the pain and love

that the doctor and the nurse
had felt together

and shared in the operating room.

This gave the doctor the strength to go on

and as another surgeon,
who is a friend of mine, said:

"That surgeon's heart
was filled with music."

The godlike doctors,

those doctors who have breakfast with God

and then come down to see their patients,

these doctors with bronzemia,

or brozemiacs in any line of work,

doing any activity,
from any socio-cultural level,

cannot get such gifts

because they feel so superior
to everyone else around them

that they are incapable
of sharing anything.

Thank you.

(Applause)