Curtis Martin and his family attended the COS Annual Meeting in Greenville, SC, in 2024. Shortly after arriving, they faced an emergency situation. While a bit unnerving, it was a life-changing, faith-renewing experience. Here is their story and part the COS played in it…
I first became aware of the Christian Ophthalmology Society (COS) through a medical student who approached me for research opportunities at the Willis-Knighton Eye Institute in Shreveport, LA, where I am currently a post-doctoral research fellow. Initially, I often viewed spiritual life and everyday life as separate entities, so I did not give much thought to the COS conference. However, our move to Louisiana 1.5 years ago with our five children has been challenging. We have felt isolated from our previous church families in Michigan, Virginia, and Pennsylvania and have struggled to find like-minded believers. If we are honest, we felt abandoned by God. After discussing the conference with my wife, we both sensed it could provide the spiritual refreshment our family desperately needed, and we grew increasingly convinced it was what we were supposed to do. Though hesitant to attend another conference during the kids’ summer break—especially with my wife expecting our sixth child—we prayed about it. Financially and logistically, we believed the only way we could attend was through a family grant. My wife prayed intensely that if we were meant to go, our grant would be approved. That same day, our grant was accepted for the entire family. We were confident that God wanted us in Greenville.
The week we were to leave, my wife, Emily, was 31 weeks pregnant. Several of our children had been born prematurely, but we felt certain God was leading us to attend. Emily monitored her health closely, and despite her OB doctor declining to see her, because she was feeling fine, we prepared for our “family vacation.” The trip to Greenville went smoothly, but after settling in for the night, Emily woke up at 2:00 AM in distress. By 3:00 AM, her condition had worsened dramatically. We woke up the children, Googled nearby hospitals, and rushed to Prisma Greenville Memorial. Emily was diagnosed with severe preeclampsia, and her condition continued to deteriorate. On Friday, July 26, our son Jace was born via emergency C-section.
During this time, I contacted COS about my inability to present my research in person, and we were overwhelmed by the outpouring of prayers and support from the conference attendees. Dr. Brad and Sharon Williams, who hosted the event, visited us in the hospital, prayed with us, and presented us with a generous and unexpected donation collected from the attendees. Though far from home, the COS community and Southern Eye Associates cared for us as if we were family. Dr. Williams checked in and prayed with us daily, and God repeatedly answered our prayers in tangible ways. He met our financial needs, provided meals through a meal train organized by generous people, and arranged housing through Front Porch Housing, a charity in Greenville. He also sent Emily’s niece from New Jersey to assist us, and protected Emily and Jace from many life-threatening complications. The ultimate miracle came when, with a new school year approaching, Louisiana Medicaid approved medical air transport for Jace and Emily back to Louisiana. We arrived safely just one week after the first day of school. We had no doubt that God wanted us in South Carolina. We arrived at the COS conference feeling isolated, skeptical, and burdened, but despite the unexpected events, we left spiritually renewed and reassured of God’s presence.
It was difficult to leave South Carolina, where we felt God’s presence so palpably. But thankfully, God had not left us “comfortless” (John 14). After being transported back to Louisiana and graduating from the NICU, within 12 hours of discharge, Jace was readmitted due to necrotizing enterocolitis (NEC). Sitting by his bedside with a looming residency application deadline, I wrote a short version of our COS narrative and the following autobiographical statement I’d like to share. In retrospect, it’s clear that our time at COS represents just the latest of many previous pivotal chapters in my ongoing life story.
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I was born into a religious farming community where formal education beyond the tenth grade was frowned upon. My parents taught us that hard work and faith were foundational for life. None of my siblings graduated high school, and college education was forbidden. Despite this, biology and technology captivated me, and I was determined to learn and excel beyond our farming community. I dreamed of becoming a doctor. However, when I mentioned my ambitions, my parents would give me a patronizing smile and say, “That’s not what we do.”
At 18, I seized an opportunity to learn computer repair, a choice that distanced me from my family and friends but set me on a path of growth. Over the next 16 years, I advanced to become an automation engineer and team lead at Unisys, a global IT company, even as colleagues faced layoffs. Despite my success, I often questioned whether I was truly fulfilling my life’s purpose.
After our first child was born prematurely, healthcare became deeply personal to me. I realized that becoming a doctor was not an unattainable dream but a path that had always been waiting for me. At 30, with my wife’s unwavering support, I started pre-med—a challenge many considered impossible. I studied at our twins’ NICU bedsides, took night and weekend classes, and worked to support my family, ultimately graduating early with a degree in Biology. My passion for ophthalmology was ignited when our son required strabismus surgery. Shadowing the ophthalmologists who treated him, I was captivated by the precision, technology, and global need for ophthalmic care.
As I applied for medical school, we discovered St. George’s University in Grenada, where our church staffed a mission providing schooling for local children. We sold our Pennsylvania home of 11 years and relocated to the Caribbean. Our time there was transformative—we became foster parents and volunteered at the mission—but it was abruptly cut short by a COVID-19 evacuation. Back in the U.S., we navigated emergency housing while I completed Zoom classes and passed Step 1.
“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of convenience and comfort but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy” (Martin Luther King Jr.). During year four of medical school, as I scoured the country with cold calls and emails seeking ophthalmology electives and research, I also prepared for Step 2. Determined to stay on schedule for the Match, I pushed ahead, traveling to rotations in Michigan, NYC, and Cleveland while studying at night. Despite warning signs clearly seen in hindsight, I sat for the exam—and fell short by 1 point. I forged ahead again, determined not to extend my training for my family’s sake. After another unsuccessful attempt, I knew I must pause and reassess.
Far from defeated, I focused on the ophthalmic research I love. Through a providential cold call, I secured a research fellowship at the WK Eye Institute in Shreveport, Louisiana. Within 30 days, we sold our house in Michigan, purchased a home in Shreveport, and relocated. I reevaluated my study approach and found a therapist to help confront my anxiety. With renewed energy and optimism, I was thrilled to pass Step 2, allowing me to fully focus on my research and clinical skills.
My experiences have taught me that resilience is not just about bouncing back from failure; it’s about growing stronger in the process. Challenges and triumphs have shaped my life, each one deepening my faith and strengthening my commitment to ophthalmology, preparing me to be a compassionate and motivated ophthalmologist determined to excel and treat each patient and colleague with understanding.
My journey from a Mennonite community in Pennsylvania to ophthalmology has been anything but conventional. Navigating significant cultural and societal barriers has deepened my appreciation for diversity and unique perspectives. As a child, I was taught that being different was wrong and that disagreements should be resolved by authoritarian rule. After feeling the sting of rejection that this brings, I believe we are each created uniquely to strengthen each other through diplomacy, understanding, and teamwork.
Diversity reaches far beyond differences in personality or heritage. I will bring an extraordinary diversity of talent to residency programs, learned from hard work on the farm, being a father to a post-surgical strabismus patient, years of diverse technical expertise, and ophthalmic research. I know how to lead a team, be diplomatic, settle interpersonal discrepancies, listen, and provide understanding and comfort. I’m an ophthalmic tech (COA) and can present research, create effective and polished training materials, and edit movies worthy of global conferences.
Having received so much, I am driven to give back—starting with residency and extending to my future patients, my community, and anyone in need, without exception.
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The entire COS experience was life-changing—more than we ever could have imagined. We experienced a renewal of our faith like never before, which has drawn us closer to God than we have ever been. My wife and I have little insight into what is best for our family or where I can best prepare for the next adventure God has for us. One thing we know for certain: we will, without hesitation, follow God wherever He leads us.
P.S. – We are happy to report that Jace has recovered from NEC without surgical intervention, and we are all home together, safe and healthy.
