Jacques J. Morcos, MD, FRCS, FAANS
Why do we exist? How did it all begin? Can we even imagine what nothingness would
feel like? Generations of philosophers have pondered these questions and the mystery
lingers on. Humans seem equipped with neither the necessary intellect nor imagination
to understand their own fate. The inevitability of death, the tragedies of diseases
and wars, the pervasiveness of suffering and injustice on this little blue planet,
pull us constantly and collectively towards the abyss of despair, the darkness of
existential nihilism. Billions are born and billions have died, the cycle continues,
and all that Homo sapiens has managed to do, in its quest for meaning and its hunger for relevance, is to celebrate
those few men and women among us who break the mold, achieve extraordinary things,
and leave an impact. Every breath is precious and every life is sacred, yet some lives
well lived simply rise above the rest and inspire the human psyche. Some lives are
outliers, are memorable, are infused with such a unique mix of ingredients that they
give the rest of us reason to pause, admire and reflect. These lives are the tide
that lifts up all struggling boats. These lives are catalysts of human happiness,
recipies for human purpose and the very essence of human hope. Most other ordinary
lives are but pebbles that leave small ripples in a pond, but these special lives
are giant boulders crashing into oceans. They generate an unstoppable wave of influence.
On February 11, 2021, one such boulder crashed into the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast
of Florianopolis. That boulder had a great life, a life worth celebrating. That rock
was called Evandro.
The Evandro tsunami did not start with his death. It had started decades before, when
this young gifted Brazilian neurosurgeon became an international beacon for refined
microneurosurgical skill, uncompromising love for surgical esthetics, unrivalled passion,
unremitting dedication, and unequalled conviction. From the first moment when Evandro
stood up behind a lecturing podium, sat down at a dissecting station or braced his
arms at the head of an operating table, with his eyes kissing the binoculars of a
microscope, the wave started to swell. This rock, this boulder was made of great ingredients:
part Yasargil and part Rhoton, yet pure originality. If Rhoton may be thought of as
the quintessential neurosurgical “archeologist” who brilliantly uncovered the countless
hidden treasures of the brain, Evandro, through skill, predisposition and temperament,
is unquestionably the “architect” and “artist” who knew what to do with these treasures.
He studied and watched other masters intensely, he refined his art, blazed a trail
and founded a massive school of followers. Why did so many follow? After all, he can
be dogmatic, uncompromising, even harsh on those less driven, less ambitious. Why?
Because his flag is planted in a pure and fertile soil, the soil of undeniable truth
and beauty: the structure and mystery of that most complex collection of matter in
the universe, the brain. Because to follow him is to follow excellence, courage, the
desire to heal and the irresistible impulse to share the wisdom gained along the path.
The world would be indeed a much better place if these were its universal motivators,
if mediocrity, selfishness and corruptibility were not so pervasive.
Marina, Romina and Sabrina have lost a husband and a father. They have witnessed this
giant of a man, this boulder who crushed mountains and moved oceans conclude his earthly
life in physical immobility, struck by a disease of the brain, that organ he understood
so well. This is cruel and twisted irony, this is poetic injustice. Yet this prophet
had done by then all the preaching he needed to do, all the operating he could have
accomplished. His masterpieces live on in his writings, his operative videos, his
lectures, his patients and his fervent disciples who will undoubtedly now flood the
world with their beautiful eulogies. But he expects more of them, of all of us. In
his last days, you could see it in his eyes. Even when he could not move and could
not speak, his mind was talking to us, his neurosurgical peers, and seemed to say:
“If it is not beautiful, it is not true. If you don't do it with pride, with love and
with refined knowledge, then don't do it at all. If it is just work for you, then
you are missing out on life. If it is not Art, then it is not Science. Please ride
the wave, but be bold and be a boulder. Go crash onto other oceans. Carry it forward.
You don't have to honor me, but please don't forget what I stood for”. I hope I was not the only one listening.
