Who’s Your Plastic Surgeon? Meet The Real Dr. Hess

There’s no doubt about it, I am no “private person.”  You ask me pretty much anything and I’ll tell you.  I’m strong in my personality and convictions so I’ve got nothing to hide.

Many physicians take great care to never discuss their personal lives with patients.  And while it’s true that there must always be a professional doctor-patient relationship that doesn’t mean that we physicians can’t be human and interact with patients on a more personal level at times; I love swapping stories about children with my patients.  This is especially important with cosmetic patients.

As many of you know, my approach to patients is first educating them on the available options then working together to create the ultimate aesthetic outcome.  As part of this process, I like to know who the patient really is.  And I’ve found that without a more personal understanding of my patient it’s more challenging to determine exactly who they are and what they desire.  But maybe it should be a two-way street.  My webwife, Eva, and I were talking and we thought that maybe we should level the playing field and let my patients know who I am.  Well here goes.  If you have insomnia you can thank me later.

I was born a poor….

Okay, sorry for the only Steve Martin line, I know.

I am “the baby” of my family (this explains a lot, you’ll see).  My father, a retired chemical engineer from the oil industry has been married to my mother, a graduate of Syracuse University in fine art (remember this later), for 50-something years, God help them both.  They have four children all but one in engineering or business.

Then there’s me – the one.  The baby of the family is well known to be extroverted, spoiled, the entertainer, type A, blah, blah blah.  Is that me? Okay, ya got me.  But I’m only a product of my upbringing and I suspect a mother who was living somewhat vicariously through me.

I honestly think my mother wanted fame and fortune but she married the wrong guy for that.  My father is a very smart, hard working, minimally exciting only child who was the first in his family to go to college.  My grandfather died when my dad was only 18 so with a very small loan (interest bearing) from my grandmother and the work-study engineering program at Drexel University dad made it happen.

But I have to give my parents huge credit because they’ve lived through things I never had too.  My father’s first job in 1956 paid $100/month.  Their rent was $80/month.  Anyone who can stretch $20/month with a newborn is pretty impressive.

Of course, the apartment they lived in was more likely on the condemned list than Better Homes and Gardens.  In fact, things were so bad that my father would put the legs of my brother’s crib in cans and fill the cans with kerosene just to keep the cockroaches out of the crib.  Yeah, I get the willies just thinking about it too.   But my parents were industrious and really exemplify the saying “you make your own success.”

Still awake?  It’s later.

Then there’s my mother….