Sometimes, a person’s reputation is not built by what people say about him, but by the quiet decisions he makes when nobody is watching.

That is why Dr Eni Olorunda of Elohim Eye Specialist Clinic, Abeokuta, has remained in my mind for many years. He is the owner of Elohim Eye Specialist Clinic in Abeokuta. I am not sure if he has retired from Federal Medical Centre. Abeokuta. But beyond his professional identity as an ophthalmologist, I remember him for something far more important to me: the evidence that, at least in my own experiences with him, the patient came before the money.

Recently, I saw someone who had a lump around the eye, and immediately, the image brought Dr Olorunda back into the radar of my mind. I felt like approaching the person and telling him that he could do away with it.

Around 2002 – 2003, I had something similar.

It was a cyst.

An eye cyst can present as a small lump or swelling, often developing around the eyelid. Depending on the type, it can result from a blocked gland or duct, causing material to accumulate and form a noticeable swelling. One common example is a chalazion, which occurs when an oil producing gland in the eyelid becomes blocked. I think he mentioned that scratching the eyes could cause the blockage.

Mine was never painful.

But not everything that is painless is psychologically painless.

The lump was embarrassing. Whenever I looked at someone, I sometimes felt that the person was looking directly at the cyst. Whether that was actually happening or not did not matter. That was how conscious I had become of it.

Taking photographs was even worse.

You could take a beautiful photograph, dress well, smile properly and still, when you looked at the picture, the first thing you noticed was the lump.

Eventually, I decided that I had had enough of it. I wanted to get rid of it.

I looked around and discovered that Elohim was one of the places people regarded highly for eye care in Abeokuta. So I approached Dr Eni Olorunda.

Eventually, the cyst was excised.

Problem solved.

Or so I thought.

After some time, the lump returned.

I went back to Elohim.

This time, however, there was a problem.

I did not have enough money for the procedure.

I explained my situation to Dr Olorunda.

What happened next is the reason I have never forgotten this man.

He immediately told me that I did not need to bother myself about the bill.

Then he suggested something that, to me, spoke volumes about his character.

He told me that I could go to the Federal Medical Centre, Abeokuta, and have the procedure done there. I explained my fears to him and that I could not take chances.

He said, in essence, that I would be fine because he was the same person who would perform the procedure.

Think about that for a moment.

He had a private practice.

I had already approached his private practice.

I had a medical problem that required a procedure.

I had admitted that I could not afford the procedure at that particular time and would wait to get some money.

Yet his first concern was not how to keep the patient within his private establishment and collect a fee.

His concern was how to get the patient treated.

He directed me to FMC Abeokuta.

And he did the procedure there.

The lump never returned.

That experience taught me something that I have carried with me ever since.

There are professionals who see patients.

There are also professionals who see opportunities.

And there is a world of difference between the two.

I recently read reports about people alleging that a doctor lured them to a private clinic for procedures. I will not comment on allegations concerning people or cases I have not personally investigated.

But those reports reminded me of my own experience with Dr Olorunda.

And then I remembered another incident involving my mother.

My mother was at one point scheduled to undergo an eye surgery at his place. I had obtained the necessary code from the NHS, and we had agreed on the cost.

I had even invited my sister to be around because I wanted my mother to have someone who could provide additional support aside from my wife.

Everything seemed settled.

Then Dr Olorunda came in and decided to examine my mother’s eyes again before proceeding with the surgery.

That examination changed everything.

When he finished, he called all of us together.

He told us that he was not convinced that my mother needed the surgery.

He said that, in his professional assessment, her eyes were not that bad.

Then he made a statement that I have never forgotten.

He said that there were people driving around whose eyesight was not as good as my mother’s.

At that point, Dr Olorunda seemed to move from being simply a doctor to becoming a counsellor.

He explained the situation carefully.

He explained the risks associated with the surgery.

He explained what could go wrong.

He explained why, in his opinion, we should not proceed. We called the service provider in his presence to inform them that the code was not needed.

And then we left.

The money involved was significant at the time.

A less conscientious person could easily have convinced himself that the surgery was necessary.

A less ethical professional could have thought, “The patient is already here. The money is available. Let us proceed.”

But he did not.

He chose professional judgment over financial gain.

I remember calling the HMO afterwards and explaining what had happened.

They were surprised.

How could a doctor who was expected to carry out a procedure suddenly tell the patient that the procedure was not necessary?

But that was exactly what happened.

More than ten years have now passed.

That same Mama’s eye is still reading the Bible.

No surgery.

No complications from that surgery because there was no unnecessary surgery.

And every time I think about it, I remember Dr Eni Olorunda with gratitude.

This is why I hold him in very high esteem.

He may not even remember me.

He may not remember the cyst.

He may not remember the conversation.

He may not remember my mother.

But I remember.

Patients remember.

People remember the professional who treated them with dignity.

People remember the doctor who did not make money the centre of the consultation.

People remember the professional who could have collected money but instead gave honest advice.

People remember the person who said, “You do not need this procedure.”

And sometimes, that is the greatest evidence of professionalism.

We live in a world where professional expertise can become commercialised.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with professionals making money from their expertise. Doctors deserve to be paid. Hospitals need money to function. Private healthcare is a legitimate business.

But there is a moral boundary that should never be crossed.

The patient must never become merely a source of revenue.

Healthcare is different from selling shoes.

When you are dealing with someone’s eyes, heart, brain, body or life, professional integrity must remain more important than profit.

That is why I believe people should patronise professionals who have paid their dues.

Go to people who have spent years learning their craft.

Go to people who have acquired experience.

Go to people whose professional judgment has been tested by time.

Go to people who can tell you both what you need and what you do not need.

Do not always look cheap treatments,

There is a dangerous mentality in professional practice where someone feels that because a patient has arrived, something must be done so that money can be made.

That mentality can be disastrous.

Sometimes the greatest service a professional can render is to say, “Do not spend this money.”

Sometimes the most profitable decision for the patient is the decision that brings the professional nothing financially.

And sometimes, the greatest demonstration of competence is knowing when not to intervene.

Dr Eni Olorunda, I may not know everything about your career.

I may not know every patient you have treated.

I may not know every sacrifice you have made in your professional journey.

But I know what you did for me.

I know what you did for my mother.

And those experiences have remained with me for years.

You taught me, without preaching a sermon, that medicine is not only about the ability to perform a procedure.

It is also about the wisdom to know when the procedure should not be performed.

You taught me that a doctor’s greatest asset is not merely the equipment in the clinic.

It is integrity.

You taught me that sometimes, saying “No” to money is saying “Yes” to humanity.

And for that, I salute you.

To other doctors, nurses, pharmacists, lawyers, engineers, accountants, consultants, academics and professionals of every kind, there is a lesson here.

Please do not take advantage of the people who come to you because they trust your expertise.

They may not understand what you understand.

They may be vulnerable.

They may be frightened.

They may believe everything you tell them.

That trust is sacred.

Use your knowledge to help them, not to exploit their ignorance.

And to members of the public, my advice is simple.

Do not choose professionals merely because they are cheap.

Do not choose them merely because someone said they are popular.

Do not choose them simply because they promise everything you want to hear.

Look for competence.

Look for experience.

Look for integrity.

Look for people who have paid their dues.

Look for professionals who have demonstrated that their conscience can sometimes speak louder than their appetite for money.

Because when you find such people, hold them in high esteem.

Dr Eni Olorunda may not remember me.

But I remember him.

And sometimes, the people who leave the deepest footprints in our lives are not those who gave us the biggest things.

They are those who, at a critical moment, could have taken advantage of us but chose not to.

That is the kind of professional we should celebrate.

That is the kind of doctor we should encourage.

That is the kind of integrity our society desperately needs.

And that is why, after all these years, whenever I remember the cyst that once embarrassed me, I do not only remember the lump.

I remember the doctor who removed it.

More importantly, I remember the doctor who understood that not every lump requires a knife, not every patient needs a procedure, and not every opportunity to make money should be converted into a bill.

That, to me, is professionalism.

That, to me, is humanity.

And that, to me, is Dr Eni Olorunda.

Kayode Ogunjobi, PhD, FHEA, FFAN, is an Associate Professor, writer, researcher and the founder of ValidViewNetwork.