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By BILL DURYEA
LARGO -- As a child Jennifer Kudelko had a clear career path in mind. "Anything but medicine," she said. This was rebellious talk. In Largo, where her father and two uncles have practiced medicine since the early '70s, Kudelkos become doctors like Osmonds become singers. Her rebellion collapsed, though, in the middle of a high school anatomy class. "Suddenly it just made sense," Kudelko, 25, said. "I wasn't studying any more, I was learning." On May 26, when she graduates from Nova Southeastern's college of osteopathic medicine, Jennifer will become the sixth Kudelko with a medical degree. Two older cousins, Paul E. Kudelko II and and his brother, Marc Kudelko, are already treating patients. Paul, 34, is a cardiologist in north Pinellas, and Marc, 32, is finishing his training in gastroenterology in Detroit before he returns home. The story of this unusual family practice began in a small town 60 miles north of Pittsburgh where Jennifer's father and uncles grew up. Their father was a tailor who worked to support his siblings. He served on the local school board and drummed the importance of education into his four children. Paul E. Kudelko (the younger Paul's dad) was the first to go to medical school, Kirksville College of Osteopathic Medicine in Missouri. He graduated in 1963. Robert, his younger brother by four years, gave up a basketball scholarship at Franklin & Marshall College and followed Paul to Kirksville. He arrived as Paul left. David, two years younger than Robert, had a moment's hesitation. But only a moment. "I came home from college one weekend, and my dad was holding two letters," David, 53, says, "a letter of acceptance to medical school and a letter of acceptance to the seminary." "My parish priest said go to medical school first; it's harder to get into. You can always go to the seminary later," David says. "I never regretted the decision." His only regret was that his father didn't get to see him graduate from Kirksville. Mr. Kudelko died in David's junior year. By the way, their older sister, Dee, didn't become a doctor. She's a nurse. Paul chose cardiology. Robert became a radiologist, and David went into family practice. They did residencies and internships all over the country -- Detroit, Phoenix, Erie, Pa. -- but beginning in the early '70s the Kudelko brothers re-formed their tight familial orbit. In Largo. "It was a much smaller town back then," the elder Paul said. "It reminded me in some ways of where we had grown up." Between the brothers they had eight children, 37 percent of whom wear white lab coats with the initials D.O. stitched next to their names. Paul II was the first of the second generation to choose medicine. "I was too short to play basketball. I wasn't good enough at guitar to be in a rock band," Paul says. "I knew I was going into medicine." Marc might have been closest to doing something else. He was a top-ranked tennis player at Southern Methodist University. He'd even beaten Jim Courier. "I realized my tennis had pretty much peaked out," he said. In his senior year he consulted with his father and brother about applying to medical school. Not surprisingly, they were enthusiastic. "My brother was thrilled," Marc says. "He said, 'Do it. Do it. Do it.' " This is not to say there aren't Kudelkos who have resisted the calling. The older of David's four children have chosen different careers -- youth counseling, veterinary medicine, law -- and his youngest is still in high school with an interest in political science. Paul Sr.'s daughter Nicole managed not to feel pressured into medicine even though she was surrounded by doctors. "I saw my dad, the hours he kept, how late he came home," Nicole, 30, says. "I guess I wanted to be more like my mother." She married Dan Doyle, who works for a copier sales company, but avoiding a career in medicine didn't mean avoiding her family. She lives within a mile radius of most of them and hosts the regular family get-togethers. Her husband has invoked a prohibition against shop talk during these times. But the doctors can't help themselves; they just duck into a corner and murmur about "normal renals and less than developed collaterals." "I really encourage nonmedical friends," the younger Paul's wife, Marie, says diplomatically. With so many Kudelkos roaming the halls, some confusion is inevitable. Patients routinely call someone's house looking for a doctor who doesn't live there. Pagers go off during meals and movies, but it's not always the right doctor who has to go to the lobby looking for a pay phone. When there are three and four of them at the same hospital, paging "Dr. Kudelko" is clearly not enough information. Now that Paul E. Kudelko II is practicing cardiology at Sun Coast Hospital, including first names and even a middle initial doesn't always cut it. Nurses know them as PK and PKJ (J for Junior). Patients occasionally are stymied. "They'll ask for Dr. Kudelko," says the younger Paul. "Well, which one?" "Dr. Paul Kudelko." "Well, which one?" "The young-looking one." You would think that would settle it, but the older Dr. Paul Kudelko looks an easy 10 years younger than his actual 60. But patients know a Kudelko when they see one. On a recent night, David, who retired for health reasons, walked into the lobby of Sun Coast just as a former patient was being wheeled out the front door. "Hi, Marjorie," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I got my first chemo treatment today," she said, smiling. "You look great," he said as she continued. Jennifer, who will soon begin her internship in the same hospital, knows already that moments such as this are the reward for the grind of medical school. "When you interact with patients, when they smile when they see you," she said, "all your questions are answered." © St. Petersburg Times. All rights reserved. |
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