Several years ago, I read an op-ed piece in the New York Times about how celebrating Christmas is different for children and adults. While most children experience pure joy, adults’ joy is usually tempered with the sadness of thinking about family members and friends who were part of past celebrations but have since passed away. So too, now when I attend annual ACEP scientific assemblies, my thoughts frequently turn to some of the pioneering emergency physicians (EPs) who I no longer encounter in the convention center hallways, session rooms, and exhibition halls. |
At ACEP this year, I will be thinking a lot about Harold Osborn, MD, who died at the age of 71 after a long illness in New Rochelle, NY on April 30, 2015 (http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/nytimes/obituary.aspx?pid=175075119). “Oz” was a striking figure in the ED and in the corridors of ACEP meetings over the years, as his ponytail turned from black to white. Having embraced radical politics by the time he obtained his MD degree from Columbia University in 1970, Oz was a fierce advocate of healthcare reform, particularly emergency medicine (EM) and health issues affecting poor and minority populations. During residency training at Lincoln Hospital in the South Bronx, Oz organized and led community-oriented care initiatives, including detox and holistic medicine programs. He also was a leading advocate of more rational working conditions for house officers a decade before work-hour reform became part of the New York State health code and later nationwide ACGME standards.
At times Oz’s unrelenting zeal could make you crazy, but he would also be the first person to come to your aid, or defense, if there was a need. As an EP with a growing interest in treating overdoses and poisonings in the Bronx, Oz worked with Lewis Goldfrank, MD, with whom he coauthored many early chapters of Goldfrank’s Toxicologic Emergencies. In 1993, Oz became one of the first academic chairs of EM in the New York metropolitan area.
In a career spanning more than 30 years, Oz never hesitated to champion a health-related cause he believed in—often at great personal risk and sacrifice. His strong advocacy helped elevate the standards for New York City receiving hospital EDs, even as many worried that his moving so fast would prompt an unsympathetic healthcare establishment to take back recent EM gains. Looking back now, almost everything Oz fought for has become standard practice for EM in New York and elsewhere.
I will also be thinking about Paul Krochmal, MD, at ACEP this year. Paul, who died unexpectedly in his sleep at the age of 67, on August 25, 2015, was one of the very first EM residents trained at Einstein/Jacobi Hospital in the Bronx, at a time when the entire residency consisted of three residents in each of 2 years. An imposing figure with a thick mustache longer then the handlebar of his BMW motorcycle, Paul was smart, skilled, gentle, and understanding. He befriended everyone he met and was an effective ambassador for EM in the days when the rest of academia had trouble figuring out who we were and how we fit in.
If you would like to read about how one EP can profoundly affect the lives of so many members of his community, and about the truly inspiring legacy Paul leaves behind, read the short obituary about him followed by more than 60 brief tributes, in the August 27, 2015 issue of the Southington Citizen (http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/thesouthingtoncitizen/obituary.aspx?pid=175654394).
As for the pure joy of youth, I still remember clearly the first ACEP Scientific Assembly I attended in San Francisco, in 1977. Registering late, I couldn’t obtain a room at any of the convention hotels and ended up staying at the Hotel California—really! I suppose it’s fair to say that, paraphrasing the song of the same name, I may have checked out after the meeting, but part of me never left.