When Dr. Alfredo Quiñones-Hinojosa operates, his patients are not asleep. They’re alert, and their eyes are wide open, which reduces the risk of damaging a critical area of the brain.
“Every patient always told me, ‘There is no possible way that I can have my surgery awake,’” Quiñones said. “And I say, ‘You’ll find the strength. We all have a strength within us to overcome the most adverse situations.’”
His own story is a testament to that advice.
Today, Quiñones is fondly nicknamed “Dr. Q” by his colleagues at the Mayo Clinic in Florida, where he is the chair of the Department of Neurologic Surgery for the East Coast branch of the clinic. But as a teenage farmworker, his friends called him Freddy.
He grew up in a tiny house with dirt floors in a small village on the outskirts of Mexicali, directly across from Calexico, California. His parents were farmworkers and were teenagers when he was born in 1968, the first of six children. The family did not have enough to eat, but Quiñones said their home was still filled with love, laughter and the rhythm of mariachi music.
“But there were some difficult times,” Quiñones said. “When I was about 3 years old, my little sister died. She developed a GI [gastrointestinal] bug and developed diarrhea. She got dehydrated. We have no access to medical care. We never made it on time for the doctors to be able to care for her.”
His sister Maricela was 6 months old when she died. The loss left an indelible mark on Quiñones, shaping his future path toward health care.
But at first, Quiñones was just desperate to earn money to help his struggling family. He was inspired to come to the U.S. after hearing stories from his mother’s uncles, who had been part of the Bracero program, which allowed farmers in the western United States to recruit and employ workers from Mexico in the 1940s, ’50s, and ’60s.
Quiñones vividly recalled the first time he tried to cross the border near Calexico in 1983. Back then, the wall was a simple chain-link fence topped with rounds of barbed wire, nothing like today’s militarized border wall.
A 15-year-old Quiñones successfully jumped the barrier, only to be caught a few minutes later by Border Patrol agents. He was detained overnight, but they released him back to Mexico the next day. He didn’t give up. A few nights later, he successfully crossed.
“I was a little tiger,” Quiñones said. “I just hopped the fence and got in the back of a tarp-covered pickup truck. I figured out the way. I went to the San Joaquin Valley. I begged one of my uncles, who was working a farm, to give me a job.”
He returned to Mexico that summer with $700 in his pocket. And so began his annual migration between Mexico and California to work in the fields.
During the school year, he thrived at the local public school in Mexico. He eventually graduated with a teaching license from a community college at the age of 18. Each summer, he would return to California, where his farming skills grew from pulling weeds to driving tractors and harvesters. But he despised the layer of dirt that coated his body at the end of each day, and he felt invisible.
At 19, Quiñones made the final jump, leaving Mexico with $63. By the time he made it to Los Angeles, he was left with just three single-dollar bills. He hitchhiked to a farm near Fresno, hoping it would be the last time he picked tomatoes.
“At the time, my cousin was working with me, and I told him I wanted to go to school and learn English,” recalled Quiñones. “And he said to me, ‘You’re never going to do it. This is it. All of us have come to this country to work in the fields. This is your future.’ I felt as if someone put a dagger in my heart.”
But Quiñones did not give up.
He landed a job as a welder for a railroad company and signed up for English language classes at night at San Joaquin Delta College. Before long, he was tutoring other students in statistics, and he joined the debate team with an eye toward improving his command of English.
The ’80s brought new legislation allowing undocumented workers to apply for legal status, and Quiñones was eventually able to get a green card. He acknowledged that legalizing his status as easily as he did is nearly impossible for undocumented migrants from Mexico today. But for him, getting status opened up a whole new world.
Quiñones earned a partial scholarship to UC Berkeley. He was brainy because he paid his rent by tutoring students in organic chemistry, physics, and calculus. But Quiñones is very understated — when he talks about it today, it sounds like graduating from UC Berkeley with high honors was a breeze.
“I had no idea that I was going to go to medical school,” Quiñones said. “But I look back at my past with my grandmother, Nana Maria. She was a Mexican curandera, a town healer and a midwife. And I said, ‘I want to be able to help people the way my grandmother did.’ And someone said, ‘Well, what about medical school?’ And I said, ‘What about it?’”
He landed a coveted spot at Harvard Medical School. He gave the commencement speech at graduation (class of 1999). He was on a path he had never imagined.
Other students, professors and even close friends tried to deter him from focusing on the elite field of neurosurgery. They tried to push him toward primary care.
Today, his cutting-edge research focuses on brain tumors. His team at the Mayo Clinic is dedicated to finding a cure for cancer. He’s also passionate about bringing healthcare to low-income communities.
That’s why he cofounded Mission: BRAIN (Bridging Resources and Advancing International Neurosurgery). The nonprofit provides neurosurgical expertise and resources to patients in countries all over the world, including Mexico, the Philippines and Peru.
“Quiñones is a force of nature whether it’s in the world of neurosurgery or greater society,” said April Sabangan, CEO of Mission: BRAIN. “As someone who has known him since he was a resident, I am struck by his ability to connect with people, to truly care about them on a personal level. He cares enough to remember the little details that make an individual distinctive, whether it’s the chairman of a department or the hospital orderly.”
When Quiñones reflects on his past and the influences that shaped his journey, he credits his success to his simple upbringing and his parents.
“They grew up teaching us the value of being honest, of hard work, of giving, of always recognizing that no matter how difficult we may have it, there are other people who have it even more challenging,” he said.
He does have some regrets, though.
“I have been very, very successful as a brain surgeon,” Quiñones said. “But where I have failed the most is as a husband, as a father, as a brother, and as a son. Now, I’m beginning to reflect more on all the sacrifices that my family made.”
He knows he wouldn’t be where he is today without the support of his uncles back in the fields, the many mentors who believed in him, and his wife — who, he said, primarily raised their three children. Today, he is trying to be a better husband and offer his kids useful advice about what matters.
“Find joy in helping other people,” Quiñones said. “Enjoy those little things that life gives you — friendship, family and time with each other.”
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