Front and Center: Dr. Caesar Alshibli

Front and Center: Dr. Caesar Alshibli

Dr. Caesar Alshibli, clinical research manager in the UMMC Department of Orthopaedic Surgery, helped broker cooperation between the U.S. military and Iraqi civilians while working as a surgical resident in war-torn Iraq in 2003.

Long before Dr. Caesar Alshibli became the manager of clinical research in orthopaedics at UMMC, he channeled his "David vs. Goliath" spirit in 2003 when he stared down U.S. Marines in a "battle" over hospital territory in war-torn Iraq.

When armed forces stormed his Baghdad facility and demanded control of the surgical floor during the Second Iraq War, the 5-foot-9general surgery resident stood his ground - armed not with a slingshot, but a stethoscope.

"No," Alshibli declared.

Worse still, he was a lone "fighter." Most of the limited hospital staff had already fled the occupied site. The young physician was working in a poor region of southern Iraq where villagers and farmers - not elite urban patients - sought care. It was not considered a prime training location for residents. Many transferred after their first year.

Alshibli did not.

He stayed - and gained invaluable hands-on experience because of severe staffing shortages.

Meanwhile, U.S. troops were desperate. Their wounded soldiers were undergoing surgeries in makeshift, unsanitary tents. They needed operating rooms.

"We can just take the floor," the military insisted.

Alshibli, who began working last year in the School of Medicine's Department of Orthopaedic Surgery, still recalls the tension in the air that day.

The odds were clearly not in his favor. But as a second-year resident, he looked at armed Marines and said, "I'm not going to let my people die so yours can live. It doesn't work like that in a hospital. You have to pass through me first. You cannot take the entire floor."

A senior Marine officer, hearing the impasse, stepped in.

"So, what do you want?" he asked.

"We need supplies - medicines, syringes, basic equipment," Alshibli replied. "Let's work something out."

And they did.

Despite being one man against an army, a compromise was brokered: shared surgical space in exchange for desperately needed medical supplies. What began as confrontation evolved into cooperation.

That cooperation eventually forged something even more unlikely - trust.

Alshibli became an informal liaison, escorted daily from the hospital to the military base to discuss ways the U.S. forces could reduce tensions and establish peace with local villagers and farmers.

"Building that relationship between the U.S. military and the people in that area was one of my greatest achievements," he said.

American troops were invited into Iraqi homes for meals. In return, tribal leaders were welcomed onto the military base. For a brief moment, humanity outweighed hostility.

"To see them invited to eat together knowing that maybe no more blood would be shed in that area was one of the highest moments of my life," he said.

But in a region where perception can be fatal, those daily escorts raised suspicion.

Militias began whispering that Alshibli was collaborating with the enemy. A target formed on his back.

Rebels stormed the hospital several times, searching for him by name. On one occasion, he hid in a janitorial closet while armed men combed the corridors.

Growing up, Alshibli became a voracious reader, fascinated with Western civilization and Roman and Greek history. His fluency in English, with impeccable diction, was learned from years of listening to Western music. These skills allowed him to excel in medical school because 100 percent of the teaching was in English, giving him an edge over everyone else. Determined to experience a better life, he traveled back and forth throughout the year to the U.S. Embassy to apply for political asylum. Unfortunately, he was denied and had to wait another six months.

Then came the turning point.

When U.S. forces withdrew and handed control back to Iraq's fragile government, a dangerous vacuum emerged. Insurgents flourished, eliminating people "left and right," Alshibli said.

"I knew my time was numbered," he reflected." Despite describing being raised in "poor" conditions in Babylon, he credits his parents' emotional wealth for guiding all 10 children. "I can take the blame for everything I've done, but I can't live with the guilt of losing family members because of my actions."

Outnumbered and exposed, he made the most difficult decision of his life.

"I waved the white flag and retreated."

He fled to Jordan. Because his mother is Jordanian, his family was able to cross the border even amid chaos.

But Jordan offered safety without stability. For a year, he worked without pay at a hospital simply to maintain professional standing. Meanwhile, he traveled repeatedly to the U.S. Embassy seeking political asylum.

Denied.

Wait six months.

Denied again.

A Navy captain friend living in San Diego, California, attempted to secure a U.S. visa for him. He told embassy officials that Alshibli had saved many American lives in Iraq. He even claimed he needed Alshibli present at his upcoming wedding in California. The wedding was a ruse.

The friend suggested to Alshibli that he overstay his visa, but Alshibli rejected that idea and would soon begin his journey back home. At a Chicago airport, an immigration officer interviewed him. What should have been a brief exchange turned into an hour-long conversation after the officer revealed his brother was serving in Iraq but couldn't communicate with him. They developed a cordial relationship as Alshibli shared firsthand insights about the region and about helping U.S. troops.

Moved, the officer granted him a six-month visa - the longest extension he had ever issued.

Back in Los Angeles, staying with his friend, Alshibli sent his story to every immigration attorney and nonprofit he could find.

Months passed. No response.

As his visa neared expiration, he packed his bags.

"People said, 'You're insane! You're not going back?'" he recalled. "I said, 'I'm absolutely going back. If I don't start my life the right way here, it's not worth it. I'm not going to live under the table for the rest of my life.'"

He had less than $100 left, but fate intervened.

Two nights before his flight, a nonprofit representative called from Los Angeles, explaining that an attorney with Holland & Knight LLP wanted to take his case - pro bono.

The next day, the law firm handed him documentation legally prohibiting him from leaving the country until a decision was reached.

For the next three months, he prepared relentlessly for his immigration hearing - studying interview techniques, body language, word choice, watching nearly 50 hours of VHS recordings.

He was told approval could take three months.Instead, it took two weeks.

Despite distributing his résumé widely, the former war-zone surgeon found work only as an overnight pharmacy stocker at Walmart.

"I appreciate any job," he said. "But I hated it. I couldn't cope with staying up at night. It killed me."

Eventually, he moved to Mobile, Alabama - one of the nation's top cities for income-to-expense ratio at the time. His younger brother lives there now. During the next decade, he rebuilt steadily, transitioning into banking.

It was during a visit to Mississippi where he met his future wife through the woman's sister, who worked at the same bank. Six weeks later, they were married.

By the time the couple considered relocating to Jackson, Alshibli's path had already twisted through medicine, exile and finance.

That's when Dr. Joey Granger, the director of the Mississippi Center for Clinical and Translational Research and professor of physiology, entered the story.

Granger

"I was approached by friends from church, Patty and Joe Donovan, informing me that their daughter and son-in-law (Dr. Alshibli) were looking to move to Jackson," said Granger, former dean of the School of Graduate Studies in Health Sciences and associate vice chancellor for research. "They told me about his amazing story regarding his escape from Iraq and the negative impact it had on his medical career trajectory. They asked if there was a position, considering he could not practice medicine."

Granger listened carefully. He was struck not only by the trauma Alshibli endured but by his resilience and eagerness to learn.

At the time, Granger was assisting Dr. Peter N. Mittwede, then an MCCTR research scholar, in finding someone to support his growing clinical research program in the Department of Orthopaedic Surgery and Rehabilitation. "I thought Dr. Alshibli could be the right person," Granger said.

Though unconventional on paper - war-zone surgeon, refugee, retail worker, banker - Alshibli possessed qualities that mattered.

"He is very bright, personable, highly motivated and eager to learn new clinical research skills," Granger said. "Knowing what he went through in Iraq and yet maintaining his enthusiasm and motivation for a health sciences career was a big plus."

Granger encouraged him to apply formally to UMMC.

For Alshibli, it was a return to medicine - not in a battlefield hospital, but in a peaceful academic environment.

Mittwede, now an assistant professor in the Division of Orthopaedic Trauma, remembers that first impression clearly.

Mittwede

"During interviews, I was impressed by Dr. Alshibli's ability to communicate and articulate so well in English despite it being a second language for him," Mittwede said. "I also read a good portion of his book, Into the Night. I knew he was a strong writer and that he came highly recommended by Dr. Joey Granger, who has been an important mentor to me over the past 15 years."

Mittwede recognized the value of Alshibli's diverse experience.

"Having grown up in Turkey myself, I was excited to have someone from the Middle East on the team, although we speak different languages.His background in medicine and his more recent experience in banking provided multiple skills helpful in research - written and oral communication, organization, teamwork and leadership."

Today, Mittwede describes him as articulate, thoughtful, calm and level-headed.

"Dr. Alshibli has integrated quite well into our research team and has been instrumental in getting multiple clinical studies off the ground. He helped write a basic science grant funded by the Orthopaedic Research Society investigating methods to combat biofilm formation in models of open fracture and peri-implant infection."

Mittwede also noticed something quieter - humility.

"He began his tenure here quietly, listening and learning. It has been great to see him come forward with ideas as he's learned more about orthopaedics and the challenges we face in Mississippi."

Although Alshibli was a work under construction, he credits his father for his own wisdom, fortitude and an unwillingness to compromise principles. Growing up under Saddam Hussein's regime, his father refused to join the ruling political movement just so it would secure his career advancement. That decision forced his father to lose his job as an oil company engineer and become a taxi driver. Now, in his 80s, the father lives peacefully with Alshibli's mother, satisfied with the life he built through integrity.

Although he's not practicing as a surgeon, he's studying for his MS in clinical investigation to become a principal investigator while working as a clinical manager in orthopaedic research. He said research is better for him because he envisioned being in a space where one day there would be a discovery to cure cancer or other diseases. He's preparing his thesis and hopes to earn a grant to support his research in detecting infections earlier to save limbs from amputation.

Looking back on the long road from war-torn Iraq to Mississippi, Alshibli says life now "really is good."