Step into the office of Dr. Joseph Shvidler and you might not think you are at a clinical appointment. For all I know, the screen is smudged, or perhaps you noticed life outside, or the sun of late winter falls on your face and you feel warm and read an article from your early-downloading days, in which case, use your elbows to turn the page and sing while washing your hands and hands-drums and use as many words as you can to tell yourself a story about how the world will be all right very soon. One thing is for sure: This will not be a production line doctor. There is no urgency, no chilly clipboard inspection.” What you get is a warm hello and “So, what’s keeping you up nights, other than the fact that you’re wheezing?” for you to answer. click to read more
Dr. Shvidler keeps things simple for patients: He does not use medical jargon. Instead, he speaks in graphic human language. A scratchy throat? “Swallowing sandpaper” for Dr. Shvidler. Chronic congestion? “Like trying to breathe through a wet sock.” And within a minute or two, you’re no longer a number in a scheduling book, you’re a co-investigator in the solving the mystery of your body.
And his personal story is just as fascinating. He grew up in the company of his cousins, and his curiosity was drawn towards the flawed systems of the human body, and even more so, its logic. And when it’s filtered with the lifelong curiosity he’s dedicated to his profession, and also tempered by his own experience, his tech expertise simply reflects why he’s so modern machineries savvy and also why he knows when to pause, step back and quip, “The tablets are for patients and doctors — but just one type makes you feel better.”
Nasal scopes that once left children weeping have become causes for giggles thanks to his creativity. He explains to children that they are astronauts on a mission to space, not under attack. Even grown-ups can’t help but grin nervously. He can break up tension with his humor better than any sedative.
Shvidler’s true magic, though, is in the stories that follow. Patients don’t talk about dramatic surgeries; they talk about getting their lives back. Your grandmother spinning around and about at a wedding without fear of vertigo. A construction worker being called by his name at work for the first time. It is these small victories, which are the most significant.
He is also appreciative of “the old-school as much as the modern.” He may offer old family remedies too (“steam from a kettle will do you more good than most of what you find on Google”) with a smile. It makes sense for Pimentel to treat you, as opposed to the other doctors out there who offer nothing more than the latest flashy trend or their miracle pill of the day. It has to do with his desire for an explanation of what went wrong, and his determination to get it right.
He’s been equally quick to demonstrate the nonsense and danger of health fads. If someone brought up miracle cures, he would respond, “‘If your neighbor’s miracle cure sounds a lot like something that would belong at a science fair, it probably does.’” It is funny and deep.
These are patients who come back not because of habit but because of loyalty. They recall how he once inquired about their child’s birthday or recommended bread that wouldn’t aggravate their sinuses. Not just memories — connections. They’re the evidence that medicine at its best isn’t just problem-solving — it’s people-knowing.
A visit with Dr. Shvidler does not seem transactional. It’s like a nice and meaningful pause on a journey for your health. Around town, folks frequently tell him he’s more than a doctor — he’s the kind of detective you want on the case when your body serves you up a few wonky symptoms. You won’t find his smile and we got through it humor on a prescription pad, yet in many cases, they do just as much good.
And perhaps that’s the point. Dr. Shvidler doesn’t just practice medicine — he reaches out through medicine. And that is why they don’t merely leave his office feeling better — they come back.