One of my best friends is a doctor. More specifically, a pediatrician. I’ve known him for ages. Our friendship is based on mutual respect, shared values and views, and a deep connection. When we were younger, we toyed with the idea of becoming more than friends. However, we consciously decided to remain wonderful friends, as that kind of friendship can truly last a lifetime.

He knows me well, and I know him just as well. We are familiar with each other’s life stories and help each other when needed. He is an excellent doctor and has an incredible ability to handle both children and parents. He didn’t become wealthy through his profession, but he is content. Once, many years ago, I visited him in his practice. It was still the time when records were kept on paper. I saw several files, sorted into folders of different colors. There were green, yellow, and red folders. I asked him back then if this was a design element in his otherwise completely white practice. He said no. He explained that he categorized parents, especially mothers (since 98% of the time women accompanied the children), into three categories. The green files were for parents who quickly understand and need little explanation. He is confident that these parents act 100% in the child’s best interest and will follow his recommendations. The yellow files are for those parents who either have difficulty understanding the recommendations due to language or intellectual barriers, and he needs to find ways to explain things more slowly, differently, or multiple times to ensure that the child receives the necessary medication or care. The red files were for the dangerous cases. These were parents who could potentially endanger their child’s health, and he needed to be very careful and find special solutions. These were parents who followed dogmatic beliefs or whom he wasn’t sure if they were physically or psychologically harming their child, or who were members of sects.

He explained that he has many patients and often works under time pressure, so he needs to ensure that he doesn’t overlook anything and can quickly get help on how to deal with the parents or the case.

It’s only now that I realize that the majority of the files on his desk were green, two yellow, and only one red.

He took a job in Libya, and we didn’t see each other for a few years. When he returned and we met again, he seemed worried. He had an adult daughter and had become a grandfather. Reason to be happy. But during his absence, his daughter, under the influence of her husband, had developed in a direction he hadn’t thought possible. His daughter, raised in a family of doctors, refused, under her husband’s influence, conventional medicine. Her son was not to be vaccinated – against any childhood diseases, not even tetanus. My friend was very sad. He told me that he had only experienced once in his career how an unvaccinated child died, and it was simply awful. At that time, he was still in training, and he still feels the helplessness from when the doctors could do nothing more for the child. He had vowed to do everything possible to prevent such situations. He has had patients die, but none due to lack of vaccination.

He was at a loss and very worried. His daughter also refused regular contact, and he was never allowed to see his grandson alone, as if his daughter feared he might secretly vaccinate her child. Knowing him as I do, such a thing wouldn’t even have crossed his mind. Over time, his daughter and grandson completely disappeared from his life. His daughter blocked all contact and completely refused to communicate.

I wanted to know if he had been too zealous about vaccinations or if there had been arguments. He denied both. He had once told his daughter his opinion on vaccinations, which she already knew, and they never spoke about it again.

As it was his only daughter, he suddenly felt childless. Banned from the life of the next generation. I feel sorry for him, but I can’t help him this time. I don’t know how.