Tom Bajo, by Amanda Missildine
The Man. The Myth. The Legend.
All who knew Tom knows how true this is. Tom marched to the beat of his own drum, and it was those of us who came in contact with him that were able to dance with the music.
I consider myself to be especially blessed to have known Tom in many different ways. Twelve years ago, he saved my life. I was his patient in the ICU, and my case was not ordinary. Which is all the more testament to his skill as a physician. I could tell you countless stories of how he cared for me (that were handed down to me, since I was clearly not in a state to be aware). Such as him dosing me with phenobarb way over the legal limit, so I wouldn’t hemorrhage as I was being wheeled down for the transplant that would save my life (I turned out sort of okay, no hard feelings, Tom) I could tell you the story of when I was recovering and awake, and he would tease me for “not being able to walk yet” “Being a weenie” and “being lazy for laying in bed all day”. In return, some of the nurses conspired with me to surprise him on rounds and squirt him with saline syringes (of course I was incredibly weak, so he easily grabbed them and squirted them back at me, to which the nurses would not let him live down). And, after I left the ICU, he would call me to see how I was doing and then proceed to further tease me for not being more recovered by that point (and for those of you that know me, you know that my recovery was miraculously fast, which made his teasing all the more humorous). I’ve never met anyone try so hard to convince others that he didn’t care. But that was him. He used humor and sarcasm to cover up what was probably the biggest heart that anyone has ever seen.
I also had the privilege of working with Tom when I later became a nurse. He was determined to make me the best nurse I could be, always being hard on me for not knowing things that physicians were taught. I remember once he asked me point blank, “Why don’t you know that?!” And I answered back, “I didn’t go to medical school!” Of course, he wasn’t satisfied with that. I can only imagine just how well versed his med students were and still are.
More than any of these, though, Tom was a friend. A couple years ago, I was going through a rough time, as was he actually, and he continually called me to check on me. Even in the midst of a storm he was facing, he reached out to give of himself. To care more for others than himself. That was how he was.
Sure, he was conceited, arrogant, and selfish (at times) but that was part of the beauty that was Tom. I’ll never forget when I was a new nurse and he would enter the ICU unit, stop, throw his arms in the air like a king and yell “All rise!” Some of the nurses would roll their eyes, but those of us who knew him deeply would laugh and think “oh Tom…<3.”.
When changes started happening at the hospital, it was Tom who stood up and fought back. When I made several mistakes and it became clear that I needed a break from working in the ICU, it was Tom who, in his own way, encouraged me to leave. He was forgiving of my mistakes. If someone was going through a rough time, it was Tom who would take time out of his busy life and make sure they were okay.
Tom’s heart and place can never be replaced. There will only be one Bajo, Tom, Tom Bajo, Dr. Bajo, Baho, and all the other names. I don’t think anyone can really comprehend how many people he influenced for the better. He was truly one of kind. And many, many, many people are going to miss him. I don’t think any of us will ever get over the loss him in this world. It is we who suffer. But Tom? He is the lucky one. Now, he enjoys the true fruit of his labor- living in ecstatsy with our Lord in Paradise. Pray for our hearts Tom, you aren’t easy to get over!
