Tuyethoa Vinh, MD.

Good evening. I am Mrs. Tuyethoa Vinh. I would like to thank all of you for attending Đại’s funeral and participate in the celebration of his life. You might be wondering how long we had been married. We are only short of 28 days from our 50th anniversary. Our life together had been a true adventure.

Đại, you were in a class superior to mine, and you were the most handsome man in the entire medical school. I immediately fell in love with you the first time I saw you through the blinds at the Institute of Anatomy (“Cơ Thể Học Viện”) in Saigon Vietnam. It was a mutual love at first site, as you told me years later that you had also fell in love with that girl behind the blinds.

You had a captivating smile, a great sense of humor, and boundless energy. Tall and athletic, you won most of the volley ball games at school, which made me so proud of you. However, It was hard for me to get close to you as you seemed distant and disinterested. Little did I know, you were extremely shy and reserved, thus you were incapable of making the first step. It took some time for us and the help of two of your best friends, Anne Regina Capdeville and Thân Trọng An, to bring us together. We started dating, but I founded bizarre that each time we met, you invited me to hop on your Honda scooter to run from doctors’-to-doctors’ offices to distribute drug samples rather than go to the movies. I found out later that you needed that job to afford medical books and to make ends meet.

We finally got married during the turbulent war between the South and North Vietnam with incessant shooting and bombing of Saigon. Our precious daughter, Huyen Tran, named after a princess, was born the following year.

As a brilliant medical student in the top three of the class and passing a highly selective exam, you were immediately handpicked by the dean of the surgical department to start a residency with him. When bombing of Saigon intensified in its final days, you were so courageous and kept going to Bình Dân hospital every day to perform surgery like nothing happened. One day, one of my brothers had to drive to the hospital and take you home for safety. That very night, we joined the family of your uncle, a colonel in telecommunications, in an organized military airlift out of Vietnam.

We came to the United States penniless as refugees of war. However, we felt free and so fortunate to be able to start a new life again. In the refugees’ camp, the food was free. We could sleep peacefully on a cot under a tent. Our best outfits were donated by the Salvation Army. They were colorful, flowery, and very roomy, including the shoes we wore, which had to be stuffed with newspaper for fitting.

Thanks to the late, generous Dr. James Patrick, a former family practitioner in Fayetteville, AR and one of Hoa’s father’s old friend, we came to Pittsburgh, PA. In Pittsburgh, where you started your residency in surgery at Allegheny General Hospital with the assistance of Dr. Henry T. Bahson, the late professor of surgery and chairman at UPMC, our first rental was a dirty attic with broken windows, little space, and lots of black dust. The Salvation Army, where I found a coat for $5.00 for each of us, saved us again from the bitter cold of our first winter. The second apartment we rented was roomier but infested with roaches. Arby’s down the road was our best restaurant, which we visited once a week.

Following our residency training, we were both recruited by the military and came to DC. We were proud to serve our new country as majors in the US Air Force; and particularly you as surgeon for Malcom Grow Hospital at Andrews Air Force Base under Dr. Dino Nonas command. Following your honorable discharge from the US Air Force, you joined the Kaiser Permanente Group to help Dr. Dino Nonas set up the surgical department. As an outstanding and compassionate surgeon you had saved so many lives.

Đại, you stole my heart with your good looks and captivating smile. You have a remarkable intelligence, and an impressive memory, yet you are humble, honest, and generous. You had won so many hearts and had left such a powerful and indelible impact in everyone who had the privilege to come to know you, work with you or be your friend. Most of all, I admire your courage and stoicism for not complaining a word, when I know you were deeply depressed following the traumatic turn in your life with the stroke and you were in agony in your final days.

Đại, thank you for spending your life with me. You made me laugh and had taught me the world, from medicine and pathology, to driving a car, and even drinking wine. “Mon petit choux”, my darling, I love you and I miss you so much. In heaven, you are done with surgery; however, you can walk, you can even fly; you can play mahjong with friends who had made it there before you; you can smoke, drink, and eat anything you like without me yelling at you. For me, I am still stuck in this empty world without you, and things will never be the same. However, you will live on in my heart and my soul until the day we meet again.

Adieu and Au Revoir Mon Amour.

- Dr. Tuyethoa Vinh