2019 Dedication of the Iowa Orthopedic Journal: Dr. Fred Dietz

Excellence in Education and Leadership in Orthopedic Surgery

Fred Dietz, MD

The Orthopedic world as well as a multitude of grateful patients, colleagues, past residents and students will forever mourn the passing of Fred Dietz, MD. A trusted colleague, mentor, teacher, friend and damn good guy who had his perpetual and contagious smile confronted by stage 4 pancreatic cancer succumbing to its challenges on August 12, 2018. He was 67.

Fred was a product of the Cleveland area and forever struggled as a diehard Indians and Browns fan. He was a graduate of Harvard College, and received his medical degree from Columbia University. Dr. Reg Cooper took on the challenge of having Fred as one of his Orthopedic Surgery Residents here at Iowa, and wisely convinced Fred to remain as a cherished faculty member. Fred spent his entire professional career of 33 years as a member of the faculty in Orthopedic Surgery at the University of Iowa. Thank Heavens…

Pediatric Orthopedics was Fred’s passion. Yes, he loved being surrounded by kids, but he was also confronted with an environment where the potential treatment options were ill defined and never in the style of a cookbook. He mostly dealt with pediatric orthopedic problems that others shied away from…congenital deformities, cerebral palsy, neuromuscular disease, trauma residual, pediatric infections. He dealt with children with lifelong impairments and disabilities, as well as their extended families. A full hour plus lecture on gait was a cake walk and standard teaching for Fred. Much of his clinical practice was in a specialty where there were no straight forward correct answers, but yet had longstanding consequences. There was no dogma in his world. This caused him to constantly question himself and ask questions of others. He viewed every clinical scenario as a dilemma that required careful thought and reconsideration. Did he do that surgical case well enough? Many of his OR cases were followed by long contemplative directionless strolls, early on often combined with a smoke. He always wanted to do the right thing and the morally correct thing. That was his driving force. Through all of this he became a pillar in the Pediatric Orthopedic Surgery arena and a heavily sought after consultant and confidant.

Dr. Fred Dietz clubfoot casting in Southeast Asia.

Fred was a master at reconstructing a congenital hip deformity (2.5 RVU). He was a master at applying a clubfoot cast (.25 RVU). He was a master at evaluating a child’s toeing in appearance and alleviating parental anxiety (.025 RVU). He was a master at teaching the learner’s around him what was important (.0025 RVU). Many of these activities are lightly valued in an RVU productivity based system, a fact that was never an issue for Fred. He was “the best resident I ever worked alongside with”¹ (.00025 RVU).

Fred also had a keen social conscience. He loved people and their interactions. He recognized BS and called out those engaged in that practice. He loved words and how thoughts are properly expressed. He wanted to understand people. He was very interested in how decisions were made. He sought social justice. Ethics, morality, and mortality were easy discussion fodder for him. He, on one day, would self-describe himself as a liberal atheist with no direction, followed the next day as a reactionary diehard traditionalist. His lack of ego allowed him to drive about in an aging blue Honda Fit (into which he barely fit). Why? Because it got him where he needed to go, had room for his lunch, books, loose papers, 5 tennis racquets, 2 trombones, a guitar with broken strings, a baseball glove and bat, and an odiferous gym bag. He loved the water… bridge jumps into the Iowa River at night, being thrown by ocean waves, the crispness of freshwater lakes, aimlessly floating on an inner tube.

2013 Department of Orthopedics 100th Year Anniversary Celebration. Auction of old departmental relics, Dr. Fred Dietz holding an item up for bid, Dr. James Nepola holding a microphone (as always), and Dr. Ernest Found was the auctioneer.

Fred travelled the world, partly recreationally, but mostly in conjunction with the treatment of clubfoot. This took him to many underdeveloped environments where language was a barrier, but the need for medical care was great. Fred was an icon in these environments. His patience, understanding, and treatment of patients and colleagues with dignity regardless of their station in life is unsurpassed. It was Fred being Fred. He spread the values so important to mankind in an unassuming and most often unappreciated way. No fanfare, no headlines.

Fred’s family was his ultimate consumption. He often spoke about his mother in Akron, Ohio and his brother and sister. He admired his father and younger brother, whose passings preceded Fred. His two sons, Alex and Andrew are Fred’s “raisson d’être.” Fred adored his wife of 18 years, Meg, and his two stepdaughters, Sarah and Liza. Fred and “my Sweetie, Meg” had four teenagers under one roof for several years. Oh, the stories he told… book material.

Photo courtesy of Dr. Dietz's family.

Photo courtesy of Dr. Dietz's family.

Our world of Orthopedics can be a double edged sword… often providing lifechanging contributions, yet in an environment conducive to excess and exploitation. It is easy to slowly slide into an era of selling procedures and tests and in ways corrupting peoples' values. Fred Dietz was at the other end of the spectrum. Doing the right thing with dignity to all always came first for Fred. Those who knew Fred recognized this in him and appreciated his attributes. They realize that it often went underappreciated. Our profession needs more Fred Dietz’s. Those who knew Fred are lucky. The Orthopedic world will miss Fred and will long for more like him; unfortunately, we fear that this precious mold may have been broken forever.

We should all take a moment and recognize Fred’s smile, his laugh, his values, his knowledge, and his life and be thankful that he shared it with us. There's a simple way to honor him. Nothing would make Fred happier than to “pour a Manhattan and drink it with someone you love.”²