Rays of Hope

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Make It Matter ( W hen plastic surgeon Geoff Williams saves a face, he also saves a life. Training with Taiwanese mentors on a medical mission in Vietnam, he was astounded by the crowd that greeted them in one village: 200 mothers waiting with their children, all with cleft lips or palates. The women mobbed him, pleading for help, as he entered the local hospital. “It was as if they were in a sinking ship,” Williams recalls, “and we were a lifeboat passing by.” The surgeons could operate on only 25 to 30 chil- dren during their three-day stay. The rest had to be turned away. “It was devastat- ing,” Williams says quietly. When his plane Rays of Hope A surgeon repairs faces, an artist leaves smiles around town, and a victim gives others a voice COURTESY GEOFF WILLIAMS, MD readersdigest.com 3/09 Dr. Geoff Williams, with My Anh, a Vietnamese patient. 11

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The Make it Matter column from the March 2009 issue of Reader's Digest. I reported and wrote about Michele Sigler and Bren Bataclan.

Transcript of Rays of Hope

Page 1: Rays of Hope

MakeItMatter(When plastic surgeon

Geoff Williams savesa face, he also saves

a life. Training with Taiwanesementors on a medical mission inVietnam, he was astounded by thecrowd that greeted them in onevillage: 200 mothers waiting withtheir children, all with cleft lipsor palates. The women mobbedhim, pleading for help, as heentered the local hospital.“It was as if they were ina sinking ship,” Williamsrecalls, “and we were alifeboat passing by.”

The surgeonscould operate ononly 25 to 30 chil-dren during theirthree-day stay.The rest had tobe turned away.“It was devastat-ing,” Williamssays quietly.When his plane

Rays ofHopeA surgeon repairs faces, an artist leavessmiles around town, and a victim givesothers a voice

COURTESYGEOFFWILLIAMS,MD

r e a d e r s d i g e s t . c om 3 / 09

Dr. Geoff Williams,with My Anh, aVietnamese patient.

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left Vietnam, he vowed to go back.Williams never planned to become

a globe-trotting volunteer surgeon.“I thought I’d help these children fora couple of years and get it out ofmy system.” But that was five yearsago. Williams, 53, now works full-time correcting facial deformitiesin 12 countries, including Mexico,Tanzania, Pakistan, India, the Philip-pines, and Taiwan. He has performedalmost 1,000 operations, most ofthem since he started his Interna-tional Children’s Surgical Foundation(icsfoundation.org)—and he hasno plans to stop.

His work is literally life-changing.

Peruvian-born Danit Olivera, forinstance, was diagnosed as an infantwith facial fibrolipomatosis, a raredeformity. Danit underwent painfultreatment that was ultimately inef-fective. Depressed by the stares andinsults, she stopped attending schooland holed up at home, convinced,she now says, that she’d never awakefrom “a nightmare that had lastedmy entire life.” Williams told the19-year-old he could help. Now 20,Danit is thrilled to face the world.“I am a different person,” she says.“I am happy.”

Williams could be earning morethan $1 million a year doing tummy

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COURTESYJOSHCAMPBELL

Grin CityUnlike starving artistseverywhere, Bren Bata-clan, 40, is giving it away.He paints cartoon charac-ters (neither human noranimal), with one big eyeand one small one (he hasno idea why), in brilliantcolors, and he leaves hissmall canvases aroundBoston and other cities.And they’re free.It all started when Bata-

clan moved to Bostonfrom the Midwest to teachcomputer graphics. Afterhe lost his job, he startedpainting what are now hissignature characters. Hesold 49 in two days andwanted to show his grati-tude somehow.But how? Bostonians’

reserved demeanor hadbothered him for years.Now he realized the city’sresidents were as friendlyas Midwesterners—in theirown way. It finally came tohim: He would give awayhis artwork and ask justone thing in return. Heattached this note and hiswebsite address (bataclan.com) to each canvas: “Thispainting is yours if you

promise to smile at ran-dom people more often.”It was the beginning ofhis Smile Project.Bataclan has left his

giveaways in 20 states and20 countries. People whohave found his paintingssend him notes and pho-tos. The characters makethem smile, his fans tellhim, and they give themhope. “It’s nice to knowthat my art really is mak-ing a difference,” he says.Since the economic

downturn, Bataclan, whosupports himself as afull-time artist, has beenattaching a different noteto his canvases: “Every-thing will be alright.”

K a t h r y n M . T y r a n s k i

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Journey ofHealingFor years after she wasraped as a senior in highschool, Michele Sigler livedwith depression, substanceabuse, flashbacks, andnightmares. After her hus-band, Brad, encouraged herto get help five years later,she called the Contact RapeCrisis Center (contacthuntington.com) in Hunt-ington, West Virginia, her

tucks, face-lifts, and breast enlarge-ments in the United States. A friendtold him he was “throwing away mycareer, that I can’t change the world.”

But he’s never been motivated bymoney. When he earned $200,000a year as a professor at a teachinghospital in Galveston, Texas,Williams lived in an apartment thatcost $250 a month. He squirreledaway most of his paycheck and nowlives off his savings. Because hetravels most of the time and is single,he stays with his parents in Boise,Idaho, between missions (and insistson paying them $10 a day). “I’mjust not a guy who needs a new

wardrobe every year,” he explains.Williams is multiplying his impact

by teaching other doctors the nu-ances of his skill. “The Vietnamesemothers drilled something intome: that their children really suffer.Their suffering can be alleviated—but not just by me. My real legacyis that I help to empower doctorsand they empower other doctors,so this work has mushroomed intosomething larger than what any oneperson can do alone.” M a n d y M a t s o n

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hometown. It took sixmonths of therapy beforeshe could begin to put thepast behind her.Sigler called Contact

again three years ago, thistime to volunteer. She hada degree in counseling andgot still more training toqualify as a victim advocate.Sigler, 36, now works atleast two 12-hour shifts aweek. “I take the hotlinecalls, just like when I called.I go with the women to theemergency rooms, and I sitwith them during the sex-ual assault exam, the lawenforcement questioning,and the polygraph. I gowith them to court. I’mthe voice of the victim,”she says.

Sigler even started earn-ing a nominal salary lastyear by visiting schools,college campuses, andsenior citizen complexes totalk about healthy relation-ships and elder abuse.Last fall, when a 16-year-

old girl was raped, Siglermet her at the emergencyroom, and she continuesto talk with the girl aboutonce a week. “She cameto me recently to sayshe hopes one day tohelp someone the way Ihelped her,” says Sigler.“For me, that’s what it’sall about.” K. M. T.

COURTESYMICHELESIGLER

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