Dr. Charlie Teebagy sees 6,000 children each year, but his oldest patient is 30-year-old Meredith Chaiken Weiss.
“I just can’t go to anyone else,” said Chaiken Weiss, who lives in Lighthouse Point and has been going to Teebagy since childhood.
“I tell him, ‘Dr. T., come on, do you want me to get a big-people doctor?’ and he says to me ‘No, no, no.”‘
How is it that a pediatrician keeps some patients into adulthood, while others he treated as children now bring their newborns to him?
“Dr. Teebagy called last night to make sure Hunter was OK,” said Molly Burke, Lighthouse Point resident, mother and fan of the doctor’s as she recalls Teebagy’s telephone follow-up for her ailing 5-year-old daughter.
“I can’t just work 9 to 5. I take my work home with me,” said Teebagy, who has practiced in Pompano Beach since 1969.
In an age when doctors in Boca Raton can get $1,500 premiums for personal care, calling at night to check on patients is one of the things Dr. T’s loyal following appreciates more than anything.
He does it more often than not, and it contributes to long workdays.
“We had a discussion about pediatricians at Amanda’s Place,” a parent-child play group at Pompano Beach High School, says mother and former patient Kristin Goberville Bishop.
“About 90 percent of the mothers there bring their children to Dr. Teebagy, and we were all raving about him. The other 10 percent of the group that doesn’t go to him were envious and wish they could.”
Teebagy treats the whole family, not just the children.
As he talks to the father of a patient, Teebagy also inquires about the health of the wife and their current life situation. “She worries about you,” Teebagy tells the man.
Teebagy’s office is as unpretentious as his personality. An old baby formula container serves as the pen and pencil holder. Pictures drawn by children adorn the bookcases.
How did he choose medicine as a profession?
“I think my mother brainwashed me. As a child I never thought about doing anything else,” said Teebagy, who speaks with a heavy Boston accent.
Although his mother had only a third-grade education, she wanted more for her son, as did his father, a parcel postman.
“When I was a kid, we didn’t have a pediatrician. We had a Jewish doctor who was a general practitioner who used to stop by the house when I was sick. He always gave me a nickel and that made me feel better. He was like my little savior,” Teebagy said.
He attended undergraduate and medical school at Boston University. “Dr. Sydney Gellis was a well-known expert in pediatrics. He was the dean of Boston University. I sort of migrated toward him,” Teebagy said. “Pediatrics is generally a happy field. It kind of hit my temperament.”
Teebagy does have a philosophy of medicine. “I enjoy talking to mothers. Part of medicine is caring, communicating and being capable, the three C’s, so to speak. In my training they emphasized that,” he said. “Today it’s a little harder. You are being forced to see more patients.”
The long hours leave him spent at the end of the day. Although he has no plans for retirement, cutting back would suit him just fine. More time to do the things he loves — tennis, reading and spending time with his wife, Elaine. Right now, those things take a back burner to many hours in the office and sometimes house calls.
In 1995, Jenna Bernardo of Lighthouse Point was struck by lightning at McDonough Park and went into a coma. In the almost three years between the accident and her death, Teebagy saw Jenna at her home almost daily. Her parents, Greg and Michelle Bernardo, asked Teebagy to speak at her funeral.
“I am not good at doing those things, but they asked me to do it,” Teebagy said. So he did.
Teebagy’s joy comes from his collection of notes from parents and children. Some written on note pads, some on thank-you notes, some on paper towels — all express unbridled affection and admiration. Such praise makes Teebagy uncomfortable.
“I don’t know if I can measure up to the expectation my patients and mothers have of me,” he said.
