Jeffrey Bado, DO: Biography from Prison

I was born August 27,1955 prematurely (that would be being born earlier than the calculated Estimated Date of Confinement).  My first month of life outside my mother’s womb was in an isolation device called an “incubator” (imagine a fancy, large fish tank for human babies:).

In 1955 premature childten often died or live severely handicapped (if they survived).  For some Providential reason I thrived.  I was eventually released to my family who so over-indulged me that I looked like the Pillsbury Dough Boy in 8 months.

My parents, Nick and Betty Bado, were devoted to their 3 sons (I was the middle).  If you ever watched the dramatic comedy series “My Three Sons” you would have seen a picture of my family life.  All love and affirmation was the norm in our household.  As for me, I was a very average little boy without any obvious developmental genetic gifts.  But, what was different about me was an attitude of unquenchable persistence and affection.  Once I “locked on” to a focus I would not quit.

For reasons unknown to me, my focus “locked on” to becoming a medical doctor at a very young age.  My earliest expression of this was when I was 6 years old.  I had determined that I must wear an “Intern’s Shirt” to school (you have probably seen them – the white shirt with the buttons on the side of the shirt).  I had seen one on Richard Chamberlain in the television series “Doctor Kildare”.  It became my obsession to own one.  To my mother’s prophetic credit she did not scoff at the notion.  Somehow, she found where they could be purchased and bought me one.  I wore that shirt thread-bare in a short period of time.

By 1978 I had completed my undergraduate and graduate studies to then be joyfully accepted into the New York College of Osteopathic Medicine (N.Y.C.O.M.).  N.Y.C.O.M.’s training program chiseled my classmates and myself into professional warriors for health.  I was graduated with honors in 1982…the average kid from Kenmore, N.Y. had finally achieved his life’s dream.

But that was not all…enroute to my medical degree I met the most attractive and authentic woman of my life…Kathy Hart.  I “locked on”  again and pursued her until she relented and married me in 1983.  My life was truly “magical”…I had a remarkable wife, we were blessed with three children, and I had a medical career that was serving many souls.  Life was very good and wholesome.

However, with my successes I “dropped my guard” and “lost focus”.  “Crouching” at the door of my heart was a ravenous predator.  All my success and blessings had swollen my self-pride insidiously.

I had become aware of an apocalyse that had occurred after an earthquake in the nation of Haiti in 2010.  The images broadcasted by the major legacy media outlets were heart wrenching.  With my broad training in medicine I knew I could be of service to the Haitian people.  Within 10 days I was landing in Port-au-Prince International Airport with a medical team from my home church Calvary Chapel of Philadelphia.  What I would experience in Haiti would effect me in many unexpected ways.

Post-earthquake Haiti was a living hell.  Collapsed buildings, starvation, open sewage, and rotting human bodies were everywhere (human decomposition has an unmistakable odor of intense pepper-garlic which burns your eyes when exposed to it).  After serving in Haiti for the better part of 2 weeks I returned to Philadelphia.  There was one major problem…I continued to smell human decomposition despite having left it behind in Haiti.

I really needed post-traumatic psychiatric care but feared what might happen to my practice if my colleagues discovered my unstable mental state.  My “solution” was to go deep into denial, emotionally distance myself from my wife and family, intensify my work schedule, and begin a series of adulterous affairs (of which I had never exhibited such reprehensible behavior before).

The Department of Justice pounced on my moral turpitude and eviscerated my Pain Management practice.  My marriage ruptured and my wife’s heart was broken.  Family and friends were stunned and distanced themselves.  By 2015 I was incarcerated for over-prescribing pain medications and implicated in the over-dose death of a precious patient of mine.  Imprisonment followed with a 25 year sentence (I was 60 years old at the time).  I entered prison emotionally exhausted, divorced, penniless, and humiliated.

But…what others may have meant for evil God used for good.  The Lord was refocusing my mission for Him.  He was calling me to serve Him in a way I would never have chosen on my own.  My new focus would be on a people that are largely forgotten by our culture…on the incarcerated souls.

My prideful and stubborn thinking had finally been broken by the Lord.  I finally see a deeper meaning to all that has happened.  I am endeavoring to listen carefully to God’s call on my life and become part of His Solution in a world of suffering.  This will be my new focus until the Lord calls me home…to serve as one of His representatives to the broken and abandoned souls among us.

SELAH,

J.C. Bado