Pediatrician Dr. Patrick Hyland is remembered as a kind, intelligent, and extremely active man

Words by Terrell Manasco | Images by Blakeney Clouse and courtesy of Linda Burns

Linda Burns has a cartoon in her home of the Road Runner, racing at supersonic speeds down the highway, labeled “Dr. Hyland”. A stethoscope draped around his neck flaps in the wind, which reminds her of her late husband, Dr. Patrick Hyland.  

“He had a lot of energy. He was very regimented, very busy,” Linda says.

Patrick Anthony Hyland was born in 1953 in Mobile, Alabama. A lifelong Catholic, he attended Little Flower Catholic School and graduated from McGill Institute in 1971. 

Hyland became interested in pediatrics while working summers at a Mobile daycare center, through an organization called La Casa de los Amigos. After graduating summa cum laude from Spring Hill College, he attended medical school at the University of Alabama in Birmingham. 

 In 1979, he met Linda, then a registered nurse at Children's Hospital. They were married two years later. 

In 1982, the Hylands moved to Grove Hill, a small town in Clarke County, where he honed his intuitive skills as much as his medical skills. Hyland’s experiences there enabled him to discern the gravity of a situation and know when a child needed to be hospitalized. “He had limited resources,” Linda recalls.   He had to use all his senses and think, 'Looking at these symptoms, what might be going on if I can’t test?' He was pretty good about that. He had that sixth sense.” 

In 1984, Hyland joined a colleague, Dr. Richard Dabbs, at the Jackson Clinic in Jasper. The clinic closed that same year and the duo opened their own pediatric practice in 1985. They made a successful team and complimented each other in a long standing practice,” Linda says. 

If ever a pediatrician was suited for the job, it was Dr. Hyland. With a youthful exuberance, an endless supply of energy, and a love of children, he reveled in his work, always prepared to leave within minutes when called to a C-section.

“He always had something in the closet—scrubs, etc., ready to go,” Linda says. “That was his happy place taking care of babies.”

Gifted with a high intelligence, Hyland also had a compassionate heart. “He had patients where the mother was as sick as the child,” Linda explains. “He would always make sure the parent was also taken care of.’” 

In 1991, the Hyland’s welcomed their only daughter, Kathleen, on whom he doted. In his off time, Hyland remained active: he loved to sing and served as cantor at St. Cecilia's Catholic Church. He sang at his daughter’s wedding, writing witty lyrics appropriate to Kathleen and her husband, Jack. He taught religion classes and gardened at the church and at home. His biggest passion, however, was cooking, particularly French and Cajun food. 

It seemed nothing could slow him down, not even a cancerous sarcoma tumor in 2012. For 30 days, Hyland underwent radiation at UAB, always the first patient of the day—but he never took off from work. 

“The first day, I went with him,” Linda recalls. “He said, ‘I need to do this by myself.’ On his way home from treatment he’d get a biscuit and start his workday.” 

On Thanksgiving Day in 2018, Hyland pulled weeds at the church. The next day he experienced back pain. By Monday, he struggled to walk. He learned that his L-5 vertebrae had deteriorated from radiation.

 Following a post-surgery spinal leak and a pulmonary embolism, he spent 30 days in intensive care. The last week of his life, Linda never left his side and Kathleen was there as often as possible. Hyland watched his health decline, painfully aware he was on borrowed time. “He had to live with the cancer and knew it was progressively getting worse. He knew what the tests looked like and how dire things were,” Linda says.

On Saturday, January 26th, Hyland called his extended family to say goodbye. On Sunday afternoon, he drifted peacefully into sleep with his family at his side.  

His patients still regale Linda with stories of how Dr. Hyland helped their child, even saving their life, stories she finds heartwarming since Dr. Hyland was careful not to discuss patients with her.

“I didn't know how many lives he touched in Walker County,” Linda says. 

May she continue to hear those stories for years to come. 78