Apart from deciding on their children’s names, one of the first major decisions new parents must make is which pediatrician to see. This can be difficult for any parent, but for those whose children are born with a condition which requires an extra amount of care, the decision can be particularly stressful. For the last 30 years, however, the efforts of Dr. Mark Addison have made that question an easy one to answer. Following Dr. Addison’s final day as a primary care physician last week, a group of parents — and patients themselves — gathered to share the lengths he was willing to go to ensure every child received the highest quality of healthcare.
Speaking to The Times last week, Addison said he originally had little interest in practicing medicine but simply “got lost in medical school” which he thought would be just one step on his journey to be a physiatrist. He found himself drawn to the innocence of children, which led to his choosing pediatrics as a speciality. Addison said when he first began practicing in Cullman more than three decades ago, he was one of the few local doctors willing to take on patients with special needs, and has developed a reputation for his efforts in treating even the most difficult of cases.
“It’s just who I am as a person. It’s just seeing each person having worth and take care of them the best you can. One of my doctors, when I was in training who worked with newborns all the time, used to say ‘God gave them to me and when he takes them away I’ll quit,’ and that just made sense to me,” Addison said.
Perhaps one of Addison’s most notable patients is Clanton Crumbley, who was born with a genetic condition so rare it remains unnamed apart from its informal moniker “Clanton Syndrome.” The condition has caused Clanton to suffer from hearing, sight, heart and kidney problems as well as severe scoliosis. Clanton’s mother, Kim Crumbley, said Clanton’s condition was so severe doctors at St. Vincent’s in Birmingham, where he was born, offered to let him remain at the hospital until he passed away. Instead she decided to bring her child home under the care of hospice and began searching for a pediatrician to treat her son.
“I was tired of talking to doctors who were just waiting for him to die. He [Addison] still laughs about it to this day because I interviewed him. He was a young guy then, and I just asked ‘Are you waiting on him to die?’ He looked at me and just said ‘I will help you if that is what ends up happening,’ and from then on it became this partnership, he literally came along beside me and partnered with me. From that moment forward I was never by myself,” Kim said.
Clanton is now 27. Crumbley said when he graduated from Fairview High School, Addison — who she referred to as “the last of the old-school doctors” — attended.
“He told me to save him a seat at Clanton’s graduation because he said ‘I will be there when he graduates, because he made it.’ Clanton just worships the ground he walks on,” Crumbley said.
Tanya Hays said her daughter Callie also suffered from a rare “mystery” condition, but was welcomed by Dr. Addison without hesitation. Hays said her daughter is predominantly non-verbal and requires constant medical care and supervision, but Addison has been treating her for 30 years without knowing the exact cause of her developmental condition.
“I had a friend who was an RN at his practice for a while, who told me he actually went back to school and took extra classes just to try and figure out how to help Callie. I never had any idea that he did that,” Hays said.
Four years ago, Callie was diagnosed with the extremely rare genetic disorder Mowat Wilson Syndrome. “He was the first person I couldn’t wait to tell,” Hays said.
Unlike most pediatricians who treat their patients until their late teens, Addison treats patients well into adulthood.
“During my first week in Cullman I saw five generations of one family. Seeing the whole family like that, you get to know people pretty well.” Addison’s new patients will often be the children of his current and former patients, and when Kelly Hays gave birth to her daughter at 23 weeks — one week before what is considered viable — she knew exactly who she wanted as a pediatrician.
Addison was Hays’ pediatrician and remains her doctor. She said while they spent the first six months of Presley’s life in the NICU at UAB, she worried he wouldn’t be taking on new patients after they were able to be released. Addison told Hays on a phone call to not worry and bring her daughter in to see him as soon as she was able to come home. Presley’s main problem, Hays said, was her ability to gain weight at the same rate a healthy newborn would. During one of her weekly weight checks Presley had only gained an ounce, which prompted a late night phone call from Addison.
“He called me and asked what I was doing and I said ‘I was like it’s ten o’clock at night what do you think I’m doing, just sitting here on the couch,’ He told me to meet him at his office, so I left the baby with my mom and me and my husband met him up there at around 11 o’clock,” Hays said.
Sitting on his desk was several types of specialty formula with printed instructions on how to add calories to each one. Hays said Addison patiently walked the couple through the process of what to do “just like it was 12 in the afternoon” and discussed the different types of bottles for underweight infants he had been researching.
Crumbley said the level of care Addison offers his patients can oftentimes cultivate a deeply intimate relationship, which makes each one feel special.
“You feel like you are the only one. I really feel to this day like it is just me and him, and you think you are the most special one to him,” Crumbley said.
Muriel Kanaday shared this sentiment, and the way it caused her to pay Addison a spontaneous house call when she noticed red spots on her son Joseph, who has Down’s Syndrome. Kanaday said she was driving to visit her sister, who lives near Addison, when she noticed the spots. Worrying that he might be having an unknown allergic reaction she pulled into Addison’s driveway to find him watering his shrubs.
“He just gave me this look like ‘Did you just come to my house?’ but he just came to the car and told me it was just fifth’s disease and he was just so sweet and very kind about it,” Kanaday said.
Addison will soon begin working as the pediatric hospitalist with Marshall Medical Center, a role which he was excited to share would require significantly less weekly hours to fulfill. He isn’t quite sure how he will spend his newfound free time just yet. He said he hasn’t had much time for hobbies over the last 30 years — Kanaday said she felt a bit responsible if she brought an end to his interest in decorative horticulture — but said he feels as though his wife would like to travel more.
At one point during the conversation, Crumbley began to get emotional. Clanton, who noticed his mother pressing a tissue to her eyes, stepped away from the mirror where he and Joseph had been enthusiastically performing an imaginary rock concert to check on her. Reminded of the work of his doctor who refused to lose hope in her son, she said “You know, we will all find new doctors, but we could never replace Dr. Addison.”