John Marlow, MD
In Loving Memory

Some called him Magic Man, Dad, Pop Pop, Uncle John, Dr. Marlow, but all knew and loved his kindness, warm attention, endearing smile and his laugh.

While growing up on an Idaho farm to a good family — an industrious farmer, John Monroe, and a multi-talented mother who taught at the local schoolhouse, Elosia Jane — he went by John Lloyd. His boundless curiosity earned him valuable lessons everywhere, whether it was listening in to the lessons of older classes at the original school "without walls" or almost burning down his barn while experimenting with gasoline, fire and water at four years old.

He grew to excel at everything he put his mind to — which ended up being a lot — picking up a new name “Rocky” (before Sly) on the football field, and even getting involved in boxing. All this while becoming valedictorian, editor of the yearbook, and even voted Most Eligible Bachelor at BYU — although, from what he told us, he didn’t have much time for girls.

Forever appreciative of his family’s sacrifices, he dutifully returned to the farm with his free time and was diligent with his studies. They brought this young zoologist to medical school, the Air Force, and ultimately to study with European pioneers of laparoscopy — learning techniques he would advance and bring first to America and later to Asia, Africa, Australia, and Cuba.

He competed with Carl Sagan for an Emmy, formed deep friendships with DC legend Roberta Flack and IVF pioneer Patrick Steptoe, consulted with Cooper Surgical, sang opera professionally in his spare time, and served twice as president of the AAGL.

It’s difficult to do justice to this man briefly. To understand his depth, you need to appreciate that — regardless of his travels and achievements — he always returned to Idaho the same John Lloyd.

All that he did can’t hold a candle to what he meant to those he leaves behind — the example he gave as he “marked the trail” for the rest of us ("Marking the Trail" was the name for his memoir he started in retirement). Always understated, he was more content delivering gifts than extracting financial gain. He stopped cooperating with insurance companies in the '90s, removing them from the equation when they first tried to "practice medicine" with his patients.

A pelvic surgeon of immense talent, he treated princesses from Persia and DC's pennyless with the same grace and focused talent. If someone couldn’t pay, he’d quietly waive the fee. He cut his teeth in medicine when practice it was known as a "privilege" and he always conducted himself as such.

"Good will always win." That was his sublimating reflection in his last years, as he survived through the current state of healthcare — never once complaining, always hopeful about the promise found in the human spirit. Hopeful is probably the wrong word there - it was really more confidence with which he saw this, like a truth. The same confidence that ressured his navigating the fastest way through DC, or that he carried with him into the operating room as he applied techniques that allowed his patients to conceive when all other doctors claimed it impossible.

For those who have had more recent experience with serious surgery, you can likely only imagine what it would be like to have your doctor hold your hand as you went under and be there to reassure you when you wake up. He didnt do this because it was the norm, he did it because he could. In fact, I'd hate see what would happen to a hospital administrator who might try and stop him. His deep connection to others and their inner beauty often brought tears to his eyes while watching authentic artists perform on reality TV contests like "The Voice".

Whether it was at the bedside of an anxious patient or sitting across from a new friend, he saw people - and we love him for it. For him, life was always filled with beauty, and he found joy in the world wherever he went.

A finer man, we do not expect to meet. He left us — as we all knew he one day had to — but what he has given us can never be taken away. His work ethic, his endless curiosity, his smile, and his laugh will echo in our hearts.

He leaves behind… all of us… and we’ll miss him deeply.

johnmarlowmd.com

Additional memories from family:

Tribute from his sister, Joan Belliston
Tribute from his niece, Marilyn Petersen