Yesterday, a great surgeon, a colleague, and an extraordinary mentor passed away

For those who knew Dr. Banazadeh, he was not only a highly skilled surgeon, but one of the most humble, down-to-earth people I have ever known. I learned so many lessons from him—not only in medicine, but in life. He was a surgeon who quite literally saved many lives, and yet he never carried himself with anything but quiet humility

Those who knew him will also remember his physical presence. He was tall, solidly built, with large hands—hands that made us as his students all wonder how someone like him chose vascular surgery, a field defined by meticulous detail and delicate precision. In his era, remaining a general surgeon was not only well accepted, it was often expected. Yet he chose vascular surgery, a demanding subspecialty pursued by only a handful at the time. It spoke volumes about his ambition, courage, and willingness to challenge himself

One day, we finally asked him: Why? Why choose such a technically demanding and challenging subspecialty

His answer stayed with me—and I still quote it to my residents and even to my children “In life, you will face tough challenges where you have to learn new skills that don’t come easily. You’ll question yourself: Should I do it? Is it worth it? Can I even do it

Then remind yourself—if others have done it, you can too. They are neither smarter nor more capable than you. Be brave and pursue it. But remember: if you don’t want to be the first to jump the train, don’t be the last either

He also had a wonderful sense of humor. Everyone around him—colleagues, patients, students—loved him not only for his surgical skills, but because he always wore a smile. He had a way of diffusing tension, especially during morning rounds, which anyone in medicine knows can be… unforgiving. When the likelihood of being roasted was high, his humor softened the edges. Life is fragile and shouldn’t always be taken so seriously . A lesson well taught by him

I remember one morning conference on thyroidy nodules. The panel was deeply engaged in discussing the latest advances and management strategies for borderline cases of Riedel's nodule. At one point, he casually held up his finger and said, “These nodules are usually small—about the size of a finger joint,” then paused, looked at his hand, laughed, and added, “Not this finger joint… much smaller.” He went on to explain how densely these nodule attach to surrounding tissue, how technicall nightmarish they could be, and concluded: “I did it once. Bad decision. You probably shouldn’t do surgery on these unless you have to

What stayed with me wasn’t the data from that meeting, but the humility. He openly shared his experience and the lesson he learned from it, and had the courage to admit it so others wouldn’t repeat it. That honesty was priceless

The surgical community has lost a giant. But his name and memory will live on through his students, the countless patients whose lives he saved, and the many people he influenced—directly and indirectly—and through his family and children

Rest in peace, Dr. Banazadeh