Patient Newsletter: November 2025

Enjoy every second.

Dear Patients and Friends,

As many of you know, my aunt, Dr. Venis Fanous — whom we all lovingly call “Tant Seeza” — has been my lifelong mentor and hero. Growing up, I watched her shape her work around her family with remarkable grace. Her husband and her two sons, Jack and James, were the center of her world, and every day she showed them what a life of service looked like.

Jack and James grew up in that environment of unconditional love, clear purpose, and endless generosity — all packaged in classic Fanous humor. Laughter was oxygen in that house. And Jack, especially, had a gift: his humor was razor sharp, unexpected, and absolutely universal. No one was immune — not his parents, not his brother, not a single aunt, uncle, or cousin. He could make an entire room laugh with a word or look.

Last week, Jack died suddenly at the age of 44. I write this having just returned from his memorial. It was a day filled with heartbreak, but also moments of grace and tenderness that I will carry with me forever.

At the service, I witnessed a moment I will never forget. Overcome with grief, Tant tried again and again to walk up to Jack’s coffin at the front of our Coptic church. Each time, a well-meaning church elder stopped her — women are not permitted on the altar. Without a second’s hesitation, James stepped in. He gently moved the person out of his mother's way, took her hand, and led her straight to his brother. In that second, he showed us all what it means to truly honor your parents.

And later, in a moment that felt like a tiny gift amid such sorrow, Tant made us laugh. While introducing me to someone, she said with pride, “This is my niece, Christine. She is a doctor.”

Then she added, in flawless Arab-glish, “…bes khayba.” (A terrible one.) I had to quip back through tears: “I learned from the best.”

Even in her heartbreak, she found humor. And somehow, it made us all breathe again. It felt exactly like something Jack would have wanted — grief softened by laughter, love expressed in the way our family understands best.

That afternoon, our entire extended family gathered — all the aunts, uncles, and 14 cousins with their spouses — I can’t remember the last time that happened. Over eight hours, stifled sobs were punctuated by raucous laughter. That was Jack. Bringing us together and reminding us that every tear could be erased with a laugh.

This Thanksgiving will look different for all of us, but especially for Sheigh, Jack’s beautiful wife; for Tant and my uncle; and for James and his wife, Andrea. Yet even in the sadness, I am deeply grateful — for the time we shared, for the legacy of service and generosity Jack leaves behind, and for the reminder that humor and love can coexist with grief.

If you feel moved to honor Jack’s life, please consider a donation to the GI Go Fund, the nationally recognized nonprofit he and James built together to improve the lives of veterans across the country.

And finally — I know it sounds trite, but please enjoy every second with the people you love. Go to the weddings, the birthday parties, and the summer barbecues. Write the letter. Make the call. Heal the rifts. Don’t wait for the funeral.

Do it now. In life.

C

View the full newsletter >