Samir Anabi is one of the cadre of physicians who often interacts with our first “featured physician,” Dr. Camiar Ohadi. Ohadi is so confident in Anabi’s work that he pays him the ultimate compliment: “Sam is my own personal physician.”

Anabi’s office is located on Artesia in the high rise that neighbors Pomona Hospital. His field of expertise is in Internal Medicine, the branch of medicine dealing with the diagnosis and non-surgical treatment of diseases, especially of internal organ systems. He is typically the doctor your general practitioner might send you to when he suspects a possible more serious illness.

The day after Christmas, we waited in Anabi’s office for nearly an hour. Three-quarters of the patients who shared our seats lining the paned glass window of his fourth story office spoke only Spanish. He, like Ohadi, does not serve only the wealthy. He, too, takes a variety insurances. In fact, he praises the poorest of his clients exuberantly, truly appreciating their gifts of figs or the excessive “thank yous” that they lavish upon him.

One must be patient when waiting for Dr. Anabi. He, too, is not a number-cruncher. When we finally meet with the doctor, we soon learn that it is his personal philosophy to “treat each patient as if they were my own mother or father.” Sometimes, this takes time. But he would rather take the time and throw himself off schedule than treat his patients as if they were merely diseases walking through his door. There is time for small talk, to ask about a patient’s mother and father, or to inquire about the outcome of a grandchild’s school play.

Anabi hails from humble beginnings. He grew up in Brooklyn in a two-bedroom apartment where his father worked three jobs to keep a roof over his six children’s heads. His father was such a deep believer in education that once Anabi’s pre-med requirements were completed, even before Anabi graduated from college, he sent his son off to medical school in the Dominican Republic. Having grown up in the poorer side of Brooklyn, sharing the block with Spanish-speaking neighbors, Anabi’s Spanish was fluent enough for him to take all of his classes in Spanish. This now serves him well. He needs no translator. He later returned to the states to complete his college degree.

One might say this atypical passage through medical training might be representative of Anabi’s continued atypical approach to patient care. While others of his stature might limit their hours of availability, Anabi is working all of the time. “I love my job!” He responds with a smile and a pointed finger of emphatic agreement when someone says we should work in a career that makes us say, “Yes! I’m going to work!” every morning we wake up.

He tells us a story of a man who once came into his office irritated that he had to wait an entire hour past his scheduled time. “Once I settled him down, I attended to his medical concerns.” Anabi recounts that half an hour later, he pointed out to his then pacified patient that he could have handled his case in a mere five minutes, but he took the time with this man to treat him as a human being. “And this now has made three people who are scheduled after you need to wait another hour and a half to see me about their ‘desperate needs.’” The man then understood and sent a loving card the next day. Anabi makes sure his nurses know to treat each patient with gentle tolerance. He knows the stress and fear that might make an ill person act abnormally emotional. This type of dedication to the human condition might be why Anabi can often be found working late into the night. His medical expertise is, however, only one way that he serves humanity.

Anabi’s family emigrated years ago from Jordan. He is a devout Catholic and an active member of Our Lady of the Assumption in Claremont, as well as being a married father of three. His language is often riddled with “God bless” and genuflections of the cross. He asks forgiveness for his religious ways. He asks forgiveness because he is Catholic and he must do these things. Not that he is ashamed. But he wants to honor other’s beliefs as well. He makes it clear that this is only his way.

He begs forgiveness, too, for the incessant ringing of his phone and the buzzing of his beeper. We have caught him on his hour “off,” so he fields some of these calls. We notice how he masterfully orchestrates and pacifies his patients’ fears even from afar. Yet, he never seems frazzled. His eyes still gleam with the joy and excitement of living life. It is easy to see that this man cares, and he accepts his role not as a doctor with office hours but as a member of the greater human body.

“I believe that we must continually fight evil with kindness,” he declares. This is his choice. This is his way. This is the man beneath the doctor’s garb—a true “public servant.”