“Let’s play a game.”
The doctor turns to his young patient. In an instant, a child who had been crying from fear of the clinic transforms into smiles, readily hopping onto the examination chair. This is the art of paediatric eye care, mastered through years of experience by Dr. Warakorn Thiamthat—a specialist in paediatric ophthalmology, strabismus, and adult glaucoma at the Ophthalmology Department of BNH Hospital. He stands as one of the very few ophthalmologists in Thailand capable of directly managing glaucoma in children.
This is the journey of his life and clinical practice.
From Boarding School to Ophthalmology
“My mother was a schoolteacher with many friends teaching at the provincial school. She didn’t want me to study there because she worried that if I misbehaved, her colleagues wouldn’t feel comfortable disciplining me.”
Consequently, young Warakorn had to leave his carefree, motorcycle-riding life in Phetchaburi behind. At just eleven years old, he was sent to Bangkok to start a new life as a boarder at Debsirin School.
“At the time, I felt rather hurt. I wondered why I had to leave home. I even asked my parents later if they truly trusted me to live entirely on my own at such a tender age.”
It was not a matter of trust, but a painful sacrifice. His mother chose a school boarding house supervised by resident teachers, accepting whatever challenges lay ahead.
“I remember crying at the coin-operated public telephone box. Yet, looking back, it was a blessing. It forced me to become fully self-reliant. I discovered I could achieve things I never thought possible, all without any pressure from home.”
He balanced his social life between the studious and the adventurous groups of friends, never letting his academic performance slip. When the time came for university admissions, this diligent free spirit chose medicine, successfully gaining entry to the Faculty of Medicine at Srinakharinwirot University. Upon graduation, after twelve long years in the capital, he returned to Phetchaburi to complete his mandatory public service.
Returning to one’s hometown to practice medicine often invites questions: “Are you not afraid of treating people you know?” For a newly qualified doctor with limited experience, errors can easily become local gossip. However, Dr. Warakorn viewed knowing his patients personally as a distinct advantage. It fostered open communication, and if follow-up care was required, patients could be recalled immediately. It was here that he learned the value of clinical proximity and patient relationships.
Ophthalmology, however, was never on his radar; his original passion lay in internal medicine. It was only during his third year of public service at a remote community hospital in Phetchaburi that his path crossed with a senior consultant who visited to perform charitable cataract surgeries.
“Initially, I wasn’t entirely convinced. I felt that after studying the whole human body, restricting myself to just the eyes seemed a waste. However, the hospital director noted it was a highly competitive field and encouraged me to speak with the consultant, who was a revered figure in the profession. I attended his surgeries several times, and eventually, he asked if I would consider specialising in it, which led me to residency training at Rajavithi Hospital.”
Dr. Warakorn chose to resign from government service and fund his own specialist training, as his hospital did not offer a scholarship for ophthalmology at the time.
While LASIK and retinal specialties were highly popular and populated among young doctors, paediatric ophthalmology was vastly underserved, with only twenty-two such specialists across the entire country. Despite never having considered himself a natural with children, Dr. Warakorn chose paediatric ophthalmology.
“If I had a profound passion for children, I would have become a paediatrician. I simply knew how to be around them. Yet, after twenty years in practice, I realise that seeing a child in my clinic makes me genuinely happy. I might not run towards children I see in public, but when they enter my consultation room, I know exactly how to make them feel at ease.”
His true interest, however, lay in glaucoma. After completing his fellowship at Chulalongkorn Hospital and working at Lerdsin Hospital for four years, he secured a prestigious fellowship in paediatric glaucoma in the United States.
He spent his first six months at Boston Children’s Hospital before moving to the Duke Eye Center in North Carolina for another year. At these two world-renowned institutions, he encountered rare and complex clinical cases that most doctors only read about in textbooks. He also regularly attended international conferences to stay abreast of the latest global trends and learned directly from world leaders in the field.
Upon completing his service at Lerdsin Hospital, he returned to Rajavithi Hospital before eventually being invited to join the clinical team at BNH Hospital.
The Eye-Scanning Game
The primary challenge in paediatric ophthalmology lies in bridging the gap between parental expectations and medical reality, a balance achieved entirely through precise communication.
“We must admit the child today. If they walk out of this hospital, they will not survive.”
This blunt statement, delivered by a senior professor to a parent during Dr. Warakorn’s residency days, initially shocked him. It sounded harsh, almost devoid of empathy. However, as the professor later explained, such direct communication is sometimes a clinical necessity. In severe cases, time spent seeking second opinions or waiting for appointments with famous consultants can lead to irreversible deterioration. Honesty protects the patient from the dangers of delay.
Conversely, there are times when a doctor’s role is simply to provide peace of mind, even when the clinical outcome cannot be altered.
Before leaving for the United States, a father brought Dr. Warakorn a thick medical file detailing his son’s rare, hereditary retinal condition. The file showed the family had already consulted the nation’s top experts, and the prognosis was universally poor.
“I wondered what he would ask me, given my limited experience at the time. When we spoke, the parents openly admitted they knew the diagnosis. However, they knew I was heading to a leading research centre in America and simply wanted me to share the file with professors conducting clinical trials there.”
While in America, Dr. Warakorn did manage to present the case to a leading researcher. The child flew to the US for an evaluation, but the condition remained untreatable.
“Yet, the parents no longer had to ask themselves if they had done everything possible. Today, that boy has severe visual impairment, but he is a successful pianist in Singapore. I have listened to clips of his performances; they are profoundly beautiful. We remain in contact, and his determination remains one of my greatest inspirations.”
With over two decades in practice, Dr. Warakorn has watched many of his young patients grow into teenagers and young adults, eventually visiting the clinic on their own or introducing their partners.
“It truly feels as though I have helped raise these children.”
He attributes his ability to connect with children to a simple truth: he has never forgotten what it feels like to be a child.
“Ophthalmologists don’t see children from birth like paediatricians do; we often meet them when they are older, or after they have undergone distressing procedures like blood tests or injections in other departments. They enter the eye clinic feeling frightened, especially since the environment is traditionally tailored for adults.”
To counter this, Dr. Warakorn decorated his consultation room with vibrant colours, traded his formidable white coat for casual shirts, and wore playful lapel pins to dismantle clinical anxiety.
Children naturally learn through play, so he reframed clinical examinations as games. The slit-lamp microscope becomes a “bicycle for birdwatching,” complete with mimicking bird sounds. The ophthalmoscope light transforms into a searchlight to “find lost treasures” inside the eye. Once children view the process as play, they cooperate willingly.
“Naturally, some children are too ill or distressed to cooperate fully. In such instances, we prioritise critical examinations and defer secondary tests until they feel better. It is a subtle technique, but it isn’t always successful. Even when it fails, parents appreciate our efforts. Forcing a terrified child through every test yields unreliable results and destroys clinical trust, which is paramount. I would rather concede the battle today to win the war tomorrow.”
When evaluating a child, he also considers the family structure. If a child is brought in by a nanny, he ensures that critical medical instructions are accurately relayed to the parents. If a mandatory eye-patching regimen causes such distress that it disrupts the entire household, he adapts the treatment—perhaps replacing the patch with more frequent clinical follow-ups. Every consultation ends with comprehensive information regarding the expected progression of the condition over the coming days, alleviating unnecessary anxiety. This holistic approach reflects the cornerstone of BNH Hospital’s Complete Care philosophy.
The Ophthalmologist and the Optician
“I understand prescriptions and optics perfectly, but I knew absolutely nothing about running a business,” Dr. Warakorn admits candidly regarding an optical boutique he co-founded with three fellow ophthalmologists, now entering its second successful year.
“It has been a steep learning curve for all of us—dealing with marketing, staff management, inventory, taxes, and customer service. It has nothing to do with medicine, but it helped me appreciate the operational realities of private healthcare, where strategic investment is essential to achieve quality outcomes.”
His presence has significantly enhanced the Ophthalmology Department at BNH Hospital. While the hospital already boasted specialists across every discipline and advanced diagnostic technology, it lacked a dedicated service for high-quality, accessible prescription eyewear. Dr. Warakorn bridged this gap by integrating a curated selection of premium eyewear and reliable after-sales care into the department. This ensures comprehensive, one-stop vision care, particularly in the management of childhood myopia progression—a growing concern in the digital age.
The Medical Educator
Dr. Warakorn also serves as a clinical instructor at Rajavithi Hospital, teaching fifth- and sixth-year medical students as well as ophthalmology residents. As a late Generation X individual, he encounters generational gaps with his students, but his experience with children helps him navigate these differences.
“When teaching Generation Z students, I adopt a collaborative, peer-to-peer approach. If they are quiet during case discussions, I present clinical scenarios to encourage active problem-solving. Knowledge can always be acquired, but clinical accuracy must be verified. I encourage them to investigate what they don’t know, or offer to verify it together.”
As a modern educator, he avoids micromanaging, believing that students must maintain a healthy personal life to avoid burnout. However, he remains firm on essential clinical standards.
“I strive to teach them empathy. It is easy to become self-absorbed and overlook the patient’s perspective; I remind them that we all fall into that trap. But when we step into the role of a doctor, we must set our egos aside. Students often dislike repetitive tasks, but clinical repetition builds the habituation necessary to eliminate avoidable medical errors.“
“I have no desire to be famous; I simply want to be useful to others in every moment.”
Dr. Warakorn claims to have few personal hobbies. Yet, if designing imaginative games to ease a child’s eye examination can be considered a pastime, it is one that goes beyond safeguarding vision. His profound attentiveness supports the emotional well-being of children, families, and patients of all ages, fulfilling his lifelong ambition: to be a person who creates meaningful value for others in every moment of life.
