‘It’s not now that I’m going to slow down’, says Drauzio Varella, 80 – 29/04/2023 – Health

About to turn 80 years old, on Wednesday (3), the doctor and writer Drauzio Varella says he does not intend to slow down the frantic pace of activities, including a column in Sheetvoluntary service in jail, lectures, participation in TV programs, production of material for your website, YouTube channel and social networks.

“I’ve always worked a lot. I’ve had stages in my life where I said: ‘I need to reduce’. And I couldn’t. I’m not going to learn now when I’m 80”, he told Sheet last Wednesday (26) the author of 18 books, including the best-seller “Estação Carandiru” (1999).

He had a hoarse voice and complained of a sore throat for having spent most of the previous day in a freezing studio recording interviews for a videocast on YouTube, which opens on the 3rd. Among those interviewed are director Zé Celso Martinez Corrêa, singer Negra Li, priest Julio Lancelotti and rapper Dexter.

With the closure of his private practice, Drauzio says he has been looking for more efficient forms of communication and has dedicated himself to reading and writing. He recently revisited Leo Tolstoy’s classic “Anna Karenina”. “At today’s age, I could better understand the structure of the book.”

A marathon runner for over 30 years, he hasn’t been running in the streets of downtown São Paulo like he used to. But not because of the wave of looting and robbery in the region. “I’ve never had any problems. On the contrary, many [dos usuários de crack] know me from jail. What concerns me most right now is the condition of our sidewalks.”

When mr. was born, life expectancy was 45 years. He thought he would get along so well 80? No, I imagined [risos]. When I was a boy, I remember that when talking about 50-year-olds, it was [se referindo a] an old. The newspapers carried the headline: ‘Sexagenarian is run over on Av. Saint John’. Very few people reached the age of 60. My generation observed this stupendous increase in life span. At that time, putting a 50-year-old person on the operating table had to think about whether it was worth it when it wasn’t an emergency. Today, we operate on people aged 90 and they do very well.

His father died at age 80. Does this age awaken any particular fear or reflection in you? Of course you care about it. My father’s generation was a smoker, mine too, but his didn’t stop smoking like mine. And he was having complications. I quit smoking at 36 and of course I think I’ll live a lot longer, but there are no guarantees.

Mr. he is an atheist and was once on the brink of death from yellow fever. In that extreme situation, did you get attached to something spiritual, religious? No, why [ser ateu] It’s stronger than me. You have no dominion over these things. They are as they are. The life of religious must be easier. I pray and I’m going to solve my problems that way, I’m going to feel supported by someone, by the figure of God. But when that doesn’t make practical sense to you, you can’t pretend you’re holding those religious principles.

If you had to choose your biggest successes and biggest mistakes, what would they be? I hit first choosing the profession. Since I was a little boy, I wanted to be a doctor and I never regretted that choice. The second hit was when I chose oncology. In the early 1970s, the emphasis in oncology was on surgery and radiotherapy. Chemotherapy was taking its first steps. I was able to follow all these advances to what we have today, the impact of molecular biology.

Another hit was during the AIDS epidemic. At the Cancer Hospital, I was head of the immunology service, and AIDS was a disease that caused immunological depression, opportunistic infections and cancer, which were the things that most interested me in medicine.

And, because of the AIDS epidemic, I understood that the function of doctors is not just to care for the sick, it is also to educate, to tell society about the things he has learned, to try to ensure that others do not have to go through situations that ignorance he takes. And that gives me great pleasure.

And the mistakes? There are countless [risos]. I was not a brilliant student. I went to college and, as I needed to work, I started teaching in a prep course. I stayed at the university all day, went to the prep course and taught until 11 pm, every day, from Monday to Friday. On Saturday I taught all day, and on Sunday morning too.

I think the wrong things I did were in professional practice. Medicine is a very curious profession. You treat a hundred patients, cure 99, but with one patient things don’t work out for a number of reasons. You’ll forget the 99 and you’ll only think about that patient where things didn’t work out.
At the beginning of the profession, I lacked the maturity to understand this thing about life and death.

The doctor’s tendency when the patient is not well, when the things you do go wrong, is to distance himself from the patient. And that happened to me at a certain stage. I was so sad with patients who evolved badly that I considered that this phase did not depend on me. [Pensava] ‘I studied medicine to heal, to treat people not so that they would die in front of me’. It was highly frustrating.

And when did that change? As time went on, I began to see the true art of medicine. When things go well, you give the medicine, the sick person gets better. Any doctor is capable of doing this. But how do you accompany the person in the final moments of life? What do you do? What do you learn from her?

Later, with more maturity, it gave me a great realization. Even more than healing the sick. The figure of the doctor is crucial when he truly plays his role. When he takes all that data into account and tries to make that ending have as little suffering as possible.

Mr. Do you deal well with the death of close people? I think so, but it started way back. I lost my mother when I was four years old. Then we went to live with my paternal grandmother, and she died when I was eight years old. Afterwards, I experienced this so many times in the exercise of my profession that I prepared myself for this reality.

I lost my younger brother, he was 45 years old, he was a doctor, we worked together. I was 47 years old, I was his doctor. If my brother were alive, he would be 78 years old, an old man like me. And I have the image of him in his early 40s. He was very handsome. Ten women passed on the street, ten looked at him and none at me. [risos].

When you lose loved ones, the happiness possible, the ceiling you can reach, is lowered. It’s not that you’re going to be unhappy for the rest of your life, but you’re going to be missing something and that’s forever.

This is one of the toughest aspects of old age, when you start to lose the people around you. You have to adapt to this new position, and if you don’t get smart, you’re left alone. How many elderly people fall into this situation because they didn’t prepare for this moment? We can’t fall for that at all.

And what are the next plans? Do you want to slow down? I don’t want to slow down. I don’t want to first because I don’t know. I’ve always worked a lot. I had phases in my life when I said: ‘I’m working too hard, how absurd, I need to reduce’. And I couldn’t. It’s not now at 80 that I’m going to learn. On the other hand, it has an urgency because of age. I haven’t done everything I wanted yet.

What’s still missing? I want to improve this communication, find more efficient ways of transmitting information, read more. I recently read “Anna Karenina”. I had even started reading in the past, but had to stop. Now I read it with great pleasure. At today’s age, I could better understand the structure of the book, those characters that Tosltoy describes wonderfully well. I want to apply myself more. Have more time to read and write.

Do you still run in the central region of São Paulo? Do you feel insecure with the increase in violence? I don’t run as much as I used to because the epidemic got in the way a little, our customs changed. Running in the street doesn’t worry me about violence, I’ve never had any problems.

On the contrary, I know the population that lives in the center, the crackers, many know me from prison. What concerns me most right now is the condition of our sidewalks. It’s hard to have to run looking at the ground, otherwise you trip and fall. I’ve taken a few hits like that. And the last one I took I was upset.

Mr. and the [atriz] Regina [Braga] They have been married for over 40 years. What is the secret to such a long-lasting marriage? I think it’s mutual respect. It is a privilege of the few. Either people separate quickly or they continue to live together but it’s that relationship that, from the outside, you look and say: ‘how sad! Is this life?’ It gives a disenchantment with life in common.

But it is possible for you to have a decent relationship with a person in which one does not want to harm the other, that one came into the relationship to help the other and vice versa. When you have your emotional part balanced, there’s plenty of time left for the rest.

When I think back on the years I spent being mismatched, jealous of each other, making trouble for each other, I think, ‘What a waste of time! Life is only one!’ People who have a house, food, clothes to wear, who have money to go out, have to be happy.

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Drauzio Varella, 79 A cancerologist trained at USP, he directed the immunology service at the Cancer Hospital (SP) for 20 years. He was one of the pioneers in the treatment of AIDS in Brazil, especially Kaposi’s sarcoma. In 1986, he started AIDS prevention campaigns on radio. From 2000 onwards, he began to participate in programs on Rede Globo and his column on Sheet. It has a health news portal and a YouTube channel. Voluntary care is provided at a pre-trial detention center. He is the author of 18 books, including the best seller “Estação Carandiru” (1999). Married to actress Regina Braga, he is the father of editor and translator Mariana and physician Letícia. He has two granddaughters. He turns 80 on May 3, 2023