Selecting the doctor who is right for you is a personal decision but getting input from people in the community you respect is an important component of the decision making process. We therefore asked all the physicians associated with our county's two hospitals, Anne Arundel Medical Center and Baltimore Washington Medical Center , this question: “If you or a loved one needed to see a medical or surgical specialist in the area, whom would you choose?”

 

Each survey was mailed individually, with a self-addressed, stamped envelope, to ensure that we got only one response per physician. The response to our 1086-doctor survey was remarkable. We commend and thank all the area physicians who took time out of their busy schedules to fill out our survey and mail it back to us.

Please note that many fine physicians who are new to the community or who are affiliated with other medical institutions may not be on this list. Choosing a doctor should be a multi-step process. The Top Docs list should only be used as a resource in helping you make informed decisions. If you are happy with your current doctors, maintain your relationships.

Top Docs

By Wendi Winters

On the next few pages are short profiles some of this year's Top Docs. The articles are merely snapshots, showing glimpses of what makes these doctors the crème de la crème of medical practitioners in this area. Please visit our Web site at www.whatsupmag.com to read about some of the winners that were profiled in previous years.

Neurologist Brian J. Sullivan best sums up the eleven doctors whose peers selected them: “In my career, the doctors who are the most effective are the ones who communicate well.” He's discovered that patients don't just want an efficient mechanic to repair their bodies, they want someone with whom they can comfortably discuss their medical issues—and, perhaps, whatever else is bothering them.

These are the doctors other doctors routinely—and enthusiastically—endorse and recommend to their own patients. Just as you would pass on a tip about a great plumber, accountant, or schoolteacher to a friend, doctors do the same about stellar medical practitioners. More telling, the Top Docs are the doctors they would call if they had a medical problem of their own.

Being at the top doesn't make them icy or aloof. Far from it—this is a very humane, and human, bunch. One seeks his personal “Holy Grail” fly-fishing for trout. One is a crack ice-hockey player. Another one pulls weeds out—instead of her hair. Yet another was a world-class runner and coaches others to follow in his Nike-clad footsteps. One more is a Wednesday night sailor. Quite a few are golfers—and though their handicaps are on life-support, they still can't park in the handicapped parking!

Stuart E. Selonick, MD

Hematology and Oncology

Annapolis Oncology Center

“When I got over wanting to be a fireman, I wanted to be a doctor,” chuckles Dr. Stuart E. Selonick, a native of Cincinnati , Ohio .

Actually, the genial 58-year-old Crownsville resident might have made a good living as a photographer, instead. A huge photo he took, of an exquisite flowering artichoke, graces one reception-area wall of the Annapolis Oncology Center . It looks more like something Georgia O'Keeffe might have produced than what you might expect of work by a graduate of Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine. Another, smaller frame in his office holds a letter his daughter Emily wrote him when she was in first grade. She's almost grown up now, a junior at Bucknell University , edging toward a degree in medicine or health. Big sis Helen graduated in the spring from Williams College in Massachusetts . Currently working as a researcher at Johns Hopkins, she's submitting applications to med schools. Son, Stuart Jr., is a high school junior at Maurice J. McDonough School . Selonick's wife, Martha Selonick, is a cardiologist with offices in Glen Burnie and a group practice in Hagerstown .

As a teen, during high school summers, Selonick worked in the National Institutes of Health's Cancer Institute. That work sparked his interest in oncology.

After medical school, internship, and residency at Johns Hopkins, he settled in the Annapolis area in '83. He joined the Annapolis Oncology Center , founded, he said, more than 50 years ago as a general care practice. He is the past chief of medical service at Anne Arundel Medical Center and a member of its medical staff.

“I like being able to practice state-of-the-art and personal, caring medicine,” he notes. “I like to call people up . . . I like to solve difficult problems and I like to teach.” Every other quarter, he's shadowed by a med student he mentors.

On Thursdays he can be found at Johns Hopkins, instructing interns and residents and overseeing a clinic. “It's a very traditional way of learning medicine,” he comments. “I try to take good care of my patients and get to know them. I don't make them sit while I go through their records. Especially with cancer patients, they want to cut to the chase. They want to know you've done your homework in advance.”

He notes the practice of oncology has changed “the most of any field of medicine because of the research effort. We've developed medicines to raise the red counts and the white counts, created meds to keep people from getting sick from chemotherapy. Immunotherapy has made the possibility of helping patients much higher than it was 24 years ago when I started, though we have patients that I first met back then who still come to me for general care.”

Selonick admits he loves “hanging out” with his nearly grown children. He plays squash at the Naval Academy courts and tennis at the Severn Valley Tennis & Fitness Club in Gambrills. More recently, he's been taking weekly lessons in classical guitar from Ginger Hildebrand. At her urging, he gave a recital in the Key School library.

While he's not ready to give up his day job, he keeps busy with his myriad interests.

Karen M. Hardart, MD

Gynecology

Annapolis OB-GYN

Dr. Karen Hardart has lived in the Bay Ridge area of Annapolis for 9 years, but she grew up in California 's Bay Area, just east of Oakland . The lithe 41-year-old has a part-time schedule in a busy multipartner practice with five offices in Anne Arundel County . Hardart works 3 full days a week as a gynecologist and surgeon. Her husband, Richard, a pediatric anesthesiologist who practices at Johns Hopkins Hospital Children's Center, also works part-time. The two share parental duties, juggling their schedules to ensure someone is always home for their children: Kent, 7 1/2, and Henry, 5 1/2, both students at Indian Creek School ; and Lucy, 3 1/2. “I was doing obstetrics, too, until Lucy was born,” she says.

“No one in my family is a doctor,” she says. “Everyone is a plumber.” After a pause she adds, “But my dad says gynecology is not much different, since everything runs through pipes.”

Her interest in medicine was piqued while she worked in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, a form of Peace Corps in the United States . She was sent to work in a clinic in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of Washington , D.C. Though now dotted with trendy restaurants and boasting escalating real estate prices, the neighborhood used to provide haven to a huge, mostly poor, Salvadoran population. She was fairly fluent in Spanish then and found she enjoyed working with people.

Later, during her second year of rotations at Georgetown University Medical School , she discovered “I really liked surgery and when I did the Ob-Gyn rotation, I liked it as the best of both worlds. I could work with women from the very young to the very old.” She spent her internship and residency years at Johns Hopkins University . She is affiliated with Anne Arundel Medical Center .

“I get my rush from day-to-day interactions with people and the gratitude I get from my patients, whether we're discussing surgery or something medical or I'm just listening. Even the ones I see only once a year, it's like old friends. I've been here 10 years. I see a lot of young girls in my practice who've grown up before my eyes. I have patients in their 90s who are so nice and appreciative of the help we can provide.”

Hardart's an advocate of the Gardasil vaccine, recently approved to prevent infection with certain types of human papillomavirus, thereby preventing cervical cancer caused by those types of the virus. “It should be given to all young girls because when you're younger, you react better to it,” she says. “People who have had the shots . . . have a 70 percent decrease in cervical cancer and a 90 percent decrease in genital warts. The shots can be given to women up to the age of 26, but it's most effective for women who haven't had exposure (to sexual intercourse). It will be a number of years in my practice before we see a reduction in the exposure rate. HPV—human papillomavirus—is huge!”

She also wishes her patients “would take the time to put themselves first, primarily with exercise.” She follows her own advice by doing Pilates, biking, and running. Hardart also loves spending time with her children and gardening. “Pulling weeds is therapeutic,” she grins. “It keeps my mind off my work.”

Faith A. Hackett, MD

Pediatrics

Drs. Hackett and Ginsburg

Dr. Faith Hackett comes to pediatrics almost by osmosis. Her Japanese mom and Irish-American dad had eight kids. There was always a sibling underfoot.

She learned about medicine, doctors, and hospitals the hard way. Just 8-years-old, she reached over a stove while wearing a set of flammable fuzzy rayon pajamas. In a heartbeat, she was aflame, her skin burning, searing pain coursing across her body. “Things were different in those days, the way burn patients were treated. [It was] a different kind of medicine then,” she recalls grimly. “I was so homesick because I was in an isolation unit to prevent germs from infecting me. No one could hold me. My dad could stand outside the room and look in at me. The medical treatment to remove the burned skin was terrible. There was no anesthesia. Doctors tore off my skin while nurses held me down.”

“A year later, I went back for skin grafts. I couldn't lift my arms. They put me in a ward full of sick kids. The surgeons didn't talk to the kids. They'd just come in, examine them and leave.” says Hackett. “I decided to be different.”

A clear clue to the kind of pediatrics she practices is the large, hand-painted mural of Winnie the Pooh reaching for a pot of “hunny” on a hallway wall in the office. She makes a point of sitting and chatting with her young patients, listening to what they have to say about their health and their lives.

Her office in Severna Park is filled with photos of her own two children, including one shot of an angelic, wide-eyed baby girl clad in a diaper, lolling on a plush white rug. The doctor beams when visitors admire the photo: it was a spur-of-the-moment shot she took nearly 18 years ago. The baby, her daughter Nicole, is now 20 and a theater major at New York University . Son Patrick, known as P.J., 22, graduated from the University of Maryland with a degree in biochemistry.

Affiliated with Anne Arundel Medical Center , Hackett shares a practice with her husband, Dr. Jeffrey Schmidlein, an adult internist, and Dr. Jacalyn “Jackie” Ginsburg, a pediatric internist.

“We've been in practice for 20 years. We're like a mom-and-pop shop. We never came up with a fancy name for the practice. Making it even better, our assistants, Cindy Smith and Barb Eckert, have been with us since day one . . . We couldn't do it without them!”

George C. Samaras, MD

Nephrology 

Annapolis Internal Medicine

Dr. George C. Samaras describes himself as a 6-foot-2, blue-eyed Greek. His father came from Thessaly and his mother from Milos . He jokes that, unlike the marble statue of Venus, she had both arms. The name Samaras means saddle-maker. Like his Grecian forebears, Samaras is in the business of getting people back in the saddle.

He lives near Annapolis High School in a house that can be seen from Riva Road . His wife, Cathy, founded Chesapeake Club Lacrosse, a middle and high school girls' elite traveling lacrosse league that has become a powerhouse nationwide. Several of their six children are active in the business, including Staci, 36; Cory, 31; and Stephy, 28. Dean, 33, is married and lives in San Francisco ; Christa, 30, a two-time World Cup Lacrosse member, has her own lacrosse business; and the youngest, Drew, 26, is the manager of a wine and spirits distributing company. When Samaras is not cheering at lacrosse tournaments, he plays the more meditative game of golf.

Born in the old Anne Arundel Medical Center (AAMC), Samaras has spent most of his adult life in the now-demolished building and its state-of-the-art replacement, tending to patients. In private practice since 1974, he's also served as AAMC's chief of medicine and is a member of the medical executive committee and president of the medical staff.

He earned his undergraduate degree at Gettysburg College and his medical training was through the University of Maryland Hospital system. Trying to recall when the desire to become a doctor first bloomed, Samaras dug out an old scrapbook and began leafing through its yellowing pages. He was surprised to find an essay he'd written as a seventh-grade schoolboy stating he wanted to be a doctor—and firmly rejecting his original ambition to be a carpenter!

Samaras entered the field of nephrology “because it was the easiest subspecialty at the time. The science in this area has developed tremendously over the past 30 years. I started here in '74. Hemodialysis was not here until '78. Transplants were not available 'til the 80s. 

“When I came back to Annapolis , there were no nephrologists on the Eastern Shore, none in Anne Arundel County , in the southern Maryland counties, or in Bowie or Crofton.”

He points out, “transplants allowed people another choice other than being tied to a machine, yet hemodialysis was a tremendous advance.”

On the technology side, “electronic records have made life easier for physicians. No prescription pads anymore. It's all done electronically.”

Some things aren't improving, the 64-year-old notes: “Kidney failure is increasing because type 2 diabetes and hypertension are increasing—they're 70 percent of the patients in dialysis.” He'd like to see Americans exercise more and eat less.

“Patients teach you everything,” he observes. “That's why you have to listen to them all the time. A good physician is one that can pick out the information and confirm it with a diagnosis.”

Musing over his chosen profession, Samaras says: “It's fun. It's what I've always wanted to do. It's intellectually stimulating. I get to meet a lot of people and help them through life.”

Paul J. King, MD

Orthopedics 

Anne Arundel Orthopaedic Surgeons

Dr. Paul J. King loves his job as an orthopedic surgeon. He's not walking on water, but, for his patients, a miracle has happened. They are thrilled to be able to walk anywhere with a normal gait again. He'll repair a sports injury on the knee of a 15-year-old cheerleader or a seasoned Salisbury lacrosse player, then prep for an elective hip replacement on an 85-year-old.

“For us in this practice, it's all about quality of life, mobility, activity,” he explains. “All these people who can't walk or exercise, I'm helping to walk with their grandchildren or play a sport. It enhances their whole health picture. It's specialized medicine, but it affects the whole system. We take people who come into the hospital in wheelchairs and they walk into my office for their first post-op appointment.”

In his private practice, Anne Arundel Orthopaedic Surgeons, he is involved exclusively in hip and knee surgery. On call at Anne Arundel Medical Center (AAMC), he does “a lot of hands and wrists in emergency surgery.”

The 36-year-old Wilmington , Delaware , native lives in Severna Park with his young family. Wife, Mary Kate, currently a stay-at-home mom, was an admissions director at a private high school. The couple has two children, who attend Chesapeake Academy : Ellie, 7, and Regan, 4.

Only practicing since 2002, King earned a bachelor of science in biology at Loyola College in Baltimore and attended med school at the University of Maryland . He completed his residency and internship at the University of Pennsylvania and his fellowship in joint reconstruction surgery at Harvard.

In addition to his duties at the hospital's Center for Joint Replacement and in his practice, he's a team physician both for the Bowie Baysox, the Baltimore Orioles' AA farm team, and for the 2007 Morgan Stanley Baltimore Marathon team. “One of us in this practice is always on call for the Baysox,” he says. “We'll see visiting team players in town, too, and trades. We see some very elite athletes.”

He's not a bad athlete himself. In college he played club basketball; he plays pickup baseball now. This year, he's raced in eight triathalons. “It's a complicated sport,” he says. “I'm doing it for fun and exercise. I taught myself how to swim by reading books.” With his 21-foot Larson stern cruiser, he wakeboards and water skis on the Magothy River

Technology in King's specialty is advancing in leaps and bounds, enabling his patients to do the same. As surgical techniques improve, he notes, patients who used to be bedridden for a week are urged to move around shortly after surgery and do rehabilitative exercises. They can walk out of the hospital a couple days later. “The people here are so lucky to have this hospital,” he states. “It rivals the big hospitals. AAMC has more joint replacements than almost any other Maryland hospital. It's really like a high-powered academic center without being big and impersonal.”

Marco A. Mejia, MD

Cardiology

Annapolis Cardiology

“My wife, Genny, and I fell in love with the Chesapeake Bay area. This is where we chose to live,” enthuses Dr. Marco A. Mejia, the cardiologist who heads up Anne Arundel Medical Center 's (AAMC's) C-Port program.

Mejia, 50, born and raised in San Antonio, Texas, practices cardiology, internal medicine, and interventional cardiology. “I was always interested in finding an area I could be good at and in helping people. I have a bachelor of science degree in biology from Pacific Northwest University and a degree in pharmacy. I wanted to use the pharmacy background and interventional cardiology allowed me to blend pharmacy and surgery.”

He graduated from the Utah School of Medicine in Salt Lake City and did all his training at Johns Hopkins. He is an associate professor at Johns Hopkins, spending at least one full day a week doing elective surgery and teaching. He estimates that C-Port, the program he runs at AAMC, has saved more than 500 lives in 5 years, by providing emergency angioplasty for patients suffering acute heart attacks. The program inserted its 510 th C-Port stent in mid-July.

“It does well and continues to do well,” he notes. “It requires effort by the doctors and staff. A significant number of patients would not have survived without it. There's a 40 percent failure rate with thrombolytics—clot-busting drugs. Angioplasty is successful because we can open a clogged artery—the one that's causing the heart attack—in 90 percent of the cases.”

Three chunky pagers clipped to his drawstring-waist scrubs pants threaten to weigh them down. One is exclusively for C-Port team emergency calls, another is for office calls, and the third is personal. He shares C-Port on-call duties with two other surgeons. “On the days I'm on call, I can't be more than 15 minutes from the hospital. I can't go out on my boat because it would take too long to get to shore. But the program provides a tremendous service to the community—it's worth it.”

His once-solo practice, Annapolis Cardiology, has been in operation for 4 years. He recently hired Dr. Bonnie Hiatt as an associate and his wife, Genny, is the office manager. The Mejias have two children: Sidney , 14, attends Archbishop Spalding and 11-year-old Samuel is a student at St. Anne's Day School. The family lives in the Arundel-on-the-Bay community.

He sleeps about 4 or 5 hours a night or less. In bed by 11:30 p.m., he's up looking for socks that match by 3 or 4 a.m.—the better to use up every available minute. For pleasure, he sails on an old 1980 26-foot S2. “It's a wonderful boat for the Bay. We do overnights to St. Michaels and to Cambridge .”

Twiddling with his computer mouse on a mouse pad imprinted with a medical diagram of a heart, he says, “I broke off from a bigger practice and formed a small practice to stay here and take care of people here.”

Says the cardiologist: “I have the community's bests interests at heart.”

R. Scott Eden , MD

Family Practice

Annapolis Primary Care

Four dozen runners of all ages run along narrow, twisting paths in the woodland behind Annapolis High School in a 5-kilometer race sponsored by the Annapolis Striders. A teenaged front-runner crosses the finish line with an envy-inducing time, but he's obviously limping.

An older man with a lean, sinewy athlete's body looks up from the trail markers he's been gathering and watches for a moment, then lopes over. It's Dr. R. Scott Eden. He examines both of the runner's feet and checks the insides of his shoes. A few moments later, the youth hops away, happy with his finish and the free medical advice.

“Running shoes were horrible when I ran in high school and college,” the doctor points out. “They were gum-bottom canvas things. Shoes are vastly better, but the injury rate is higher.” He shakes his head. “Perhaps because they're not out running around as much as we did. We were outside more, instead of inside in front of the TV or computer.”

An active member of Annapolis Striders, he's been involved with Annapolis High's Track & Field team for 10 years. His oldest daughter wanted to go out for track and cajoled him into getting involved, too. That meant a background check, training, and watching a clunky, boring video. Once that was done, his daughter dropped out—but he was hooked. “I've been an assistant coach ever since!”

“I'm a jock,” he adds with a quiet smile.

He was the NCAA All-American in cross-country in 1973 and 1974 for Duke University , he won the Marine Corps Marathon in 1978, and he made the Olympic trials in marathon for the 1980 games, but was injured 2 months before and didn't recover in time to participate. At 18, he held the American junior record for running 6 miles—only 3 seconds off the world record.

Yet, he's really a jock of living: the 53-year-old can run a race, then shower and easily enjoy an evening at an art gallery opening or at a board meeting at his church, where he recently wrapped up a term as board president. Or he's ready to enjoy the evening at home, in the Poplar Point community, with his wife, Dr. Jan Bird, an Annapolis Ob-Gyn, and their three children: Suzanne, 24; Will, 20; and Andrew, 17.

Eden is a native of Richmond , Virginia , whose first ambition was to become a veterinarian like his grandfather. “I love animals,” he says, “but in Douglas Freeman High School I did research papers for a school science project with doctors at Virginia Commonwealth University-Medical College of Virginia. I decided I wanted to be a doctor and didn't waver.”

His first stop was Duke University . He switched from biomedical engineering to Duke's pre-med major, zoology. His desire, to become a family practitioner, wasn't trumpeted by Duke's glitterati. “Duke likes to produce researchers,” Eden notes. “Family practice is looked down upon as being less respected and paid less. It's hard to attract people to this kind of medicine. Private med schools, being ivory towers, aren't impressed with primary care, though state med schools understand the need.”

His wife, a New Carrollton native, was in his class at Duke but “She didn't like jocks.” Somehow, they discovered each other and married in 1979, during their fourth year of med school, and decided to live “outside the Beltway.”

In practice now for 23 years, Eden says: “I get to know a lot of people. I enjoy diagnosing their problems and getting people past those problems.”

Jack J. Van Geffen, MD

Nuclear Medicine

Annapolis Radiology Associates

Anne Arundel Medical Center

Wednesday nights you'll find Dr. Jack Van Geffen out on the water, the wind ruffling his silver hair. He's a member of the Wednesday Night Race Club, enthusiastic sailors all, and of the Annapolis Yacht Club. A photo of a sailboat, its colorful spinnaker puffed out like a proud robin's chest, is the screen saver on his computer at Anne Arundel Medical Center . It's a shot he took, from the deck of his own vessel, a Pearson 30 named Winsome.

Most days the 63-year-old is taking a different kind of photograph—not for pleasure, but to save lives. Two years ago, the hospital invested in the GE Discovery ST PET/CT scanner, a diagnostic tool that blends photo-images of patient anatomy and physiology. The results are laid out separately and combined. The images bring tumors clearly into view, allowing doctors to determine their location, whether they're benign or cancerous, and what type of treatment is necessary.

“Occult tumors show up as big red beacons. We find surprises every day,” he says.

Van Geffen, a New Orleans native, was a math major in college. Trying to sort out whether he wanted to teach or be an actuary, he took a summer job with an actuary. “It was huge columns of numbers! All day! Every day!” he remembers.

Several of his high school classmates were planning to attend medical school. “Whoa! I want to get on that boat,” he thought, and changed his tack from math, steering into biology at Rice University in Houston . He returned to his hometown to attend Louisiana State University School of Medicine in New Orleans . Later he completed his internship and residency at Letterman Army Medical Center in San Francisco .

“I went into internal medicine, it was a good thing to practice and learn and I could subspecialize in nuclear medicine. It fulfilled my need for mathematics and nuclear medicine was new—less biology and more physics,” says Van Geffen.

He met his wife, Laura, a medical technologist from Georgia , while they were both living in San Francisco . When they were pondering where to start their family and careers, his lifelong love of sailing played a part in the final equation. “I began part-time here in ?81 and full time in ?91,” he says.

They have three grown children. Mary, 36, lives in Long Beach , California , and has two kids. Joe, 31, is a graphic artist in Washington , D.C. , and John, 26, is a lawyer in Fresno .

When not enjoying the Bay, Van Geffen's on the green at Old South Country Club, a 25-minute commute from his Murray Hill home in Annapolis . Like a good doctor, he's working on his own handicap—it's a 9.

Mark L. Repka, MD

Obstetrics

Annapolis OB-GYN

Prospective mothers, start your engines. Dr. Mark L. Repka, a popular obstetrical gynecologist, is a devoted NASCAR fan. But he isn't about to race through delivering a baby. “It's very gratifying to be involved in delivering a child. It's a special event for a family,” he says. “When people count on you and you're there for them, it's very gratifying.”

Repka attends at least eight NASCAR races a year. He and his wife, Irene, a wound ostomy care nurse at Anne Arundel Medical Center , track the career of the handsome driver of the flame-red No. 24 DuPont Chevrolet: Big Jeff Gordon.

The doctor grew up in Newark , Delaware , and graduated from the University of Delaware . Interested in biosciences, he headed to med school at Jefferson Medical College in Philadelphia . His older brother, now an ophthalmologist at Johns Hopkins, was a source of inspiration when he became a doctor. The younger Repka's segue into Ob-Gyn stemmed from the fact the med school, he said, was “very strong in primary care. In this field, we get to do a wide variety of things.”

He completed his internship and residency as an Army doctor at Walter Reed Hospital in Washington , D.C. He is affiliated with Anne Arundel Medical Center and Baltimore Washington Medical Center . He settled in Annapolis after 3 years in Germany .

In practice since 1985, he delivers about 200 babies a year. That doesn't mean he can't have a life. “The advantage of being in a large group like this is you can plan a regular life,” he explains. “We have seven full-time Ob-Gyns on staff, three who are gynecologists only, plus two nurse-midwives.”

In addition to ushering in newborns, he relishes many aspects of the bustling practice, including high-risk obstetrics, infertility, perimenopause, PMS issues, and preventive medicine.

For the past 2 years he's been diverted from another passion, golfing. Towed by his wife and two children, Kelsey, 18, and Rik, 19, he's visited colleges across the country to find the perfect fit for each. Kelsey, a class of 2007 Annapolis High International Baccalaureate Programme graduate, was the school's student government association president. She is now a freshman at the University of California at Berkeley . Rik is a sophomore at the University of Pittsburgh .

When Repka does get time to play, he heads to the nearby public courses: Compass Pointe, Eisenhower, and Bay Hills. Considering his handicap, it's safe to say Tiger Woods needn't worry.

Robert C. Moore, MD

General Surgery

Staff member, AAMC

“TV medical shows are so inaccurate,” Surgeon Robert Moore says with a wry smile and a dismissive shake of his head. “The medicine on TV is hopelessly bad, but it's entertainment. Real life is pretty boring.”

Not judging from Moore 's history. He didn't start out to be a doctor. He was working on a PhD in mathematics when Uncle Sam beckoned. Moore had pursued the scholarly life steadily since his 1961 graduation from Pinkerton Academy in Derry , New Hampshire , earning his bachelor's degree at Trinity College and a master of science degree at the University of Minneapolis . He was in the middle of his doctorate of philosophy program and a teaching fellowship in 1970 when his path took a sharp, unscheduled turn.

He was drafted into the Army and served his 2-year tour of duty in Germany . “I was surrounded by a lot of people in the Army who talked of going to med school.” It sounded interesting and he headed back to school again.

He graduated from George Washington University in Washington , D.C. After his internship and residency in the University of Maryland Medical system, he re-upped for military service in 1982, this time with the U.S. Air Force Medical Corps, as a major. He served as a staff surgeon at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware and March Air Force Base in Riverside County , California .

A member of the Air Force Reserves for 11 years, Col. Moore teaches at the U.S. Naval Medical School in Bethesda . He is also affiliated with Anne Arundel Medical Center (AAMC) and Malcolm Grow Medical Center at Andrews Air Force Base.

Now, after 19 years with AAMC and in his own practice on Ridgely Avenue in Annapolis, the 60-year-old is involved in more than 500 surgeries a year, including abdominal and gall bladder operations and cancer surgeries of the intestines, colon, rectum, and breast. He also operates on hernias and thyroid and parathyroid glands. “I like doing all sorts of operations,” he says. Through study and advanced training, Moore is skilled in laparoscopic and breast surgical procedures and sentinel node biopsies—skills and less-invasive procedures for which women all over the region are grateful.

“Surgery remains interesting because I continue to find things that are unexpected. There are diagnostic dilemmas where you can't find out what's wrong until you operate,” he explains. “That includes cases that are reported to be obscure or unknown.”

Moore is married to Yvonne Elizabeth Moore, who works at Borders Books & Music at Westfield Annapolis Mall. Their son, Sterling Cleaveland Moore, 19, attends Rochester Institute of Technology in Rochester , New York .

The doctor's a regular at the Piney Orchard Ice Rink, where he plays ice hockey. A former Annapolis Strider, he continues to run for pleasure and he skis in the winter. The New England native is definitely not impressed by Maryland 's weather: “When I retire, I want to go to a place where there's better winters!” he declares.

Moore doesn't mean sunny beaches—he misses the snow.

Brian J. Sullivan, MD

Neurosurgery

Maryland Brain & Spine

The arrival of Maggie Sullivan triggered something in Brian Sullivan that he thought he already had in abundance: empathy. It got deeper still after the births of Emily, now 4, and Lizzie, 2. “After the children were born,” he says, “I began seeing even a difficult patient had once been someone's child. I'm more empathetic to young parents. The amount of responsibility—and love—they have for their children didn't hit home to me when I was a single yuppie.”

Sullivan, 42, is a neurosurgeon with Maryland Brain & Spine and affiliated with Anne Arundel Medical Center , Baltimore Washington Medical Center , and Johns Hopkins Hospital . His practice is involved in solving a cornucopia of neurological issues, with names from A (abscess of the brain) to T (trigeminal neuralgia).

Born in Washington , D.C. , and raised in Rockville , the former high school Georgetown Prep varsity basketball player was intrigued, not by the psychology of the game, but by the workings of the brain. “I was a psychology major at Dickinson College , with a minor in biology. The brain holds infinite possibilities. What's up there? Psychology was a fascinating way to go. That morphed into psychiatry, then I got into being a doctor. In medical school at Georgetown University , I got bitten by the surgery bug.” He's been in practice since 1999.

Even in that short time span, he's noticed shifts in the health care paradigm. “I've seen a change in the focus on patient care: it's more customer-service oriented. You've got to give good service,” he says. “Not keep people waiting for hours. A doctor needs to be more patient-oriented, not disease-oriented.”

“I am not knife-happy,” he states bluntly. “Surgeons have a cold image. Starched white coat. A scowl. Speak in medical-ese. And act like all we do is like to operate. In my career, the doctors who are the most effective are the ones who communicate well.”

His wife, Kerrie, is a nurse practitioner in the office of orthopedic specialist Dr. Paul King. They met while Sullivan was completing his internship at Cottage Hospital in Santa Barbara , California . The Sullivan family lives in the Harness Creek neighborhood of Annapolis .

In his specialty, he's enthused about changes that have come with improvements in materials and technology. “We've gotten a lot of pretty cool toys. There's Novalis stereotactic radiosurgery, which focuses radiation down to the tiniest levels. We got that in 2002. Disc replacement, like the Charite disc prosthesis, is an alternative to fusing the bones in the neck. Surgeons used to fuse a knee: that's unheard of now. You replace it.”

While he is “religious” about hitting the gym at 5:25 most mornings—he's the one grumbling if they don't open the door right away at 5:30—there is something even more spiritual in his life: fly fishing. “My favorite place is Gunpowder State Park near Baltimore ,” he enthuses. “Sometimes I go off to Pennsylvania with my friends.”

His favorite fish? “Trout! Trout is the Holy Grail!”