Recently I attended the funeral of a prominent gastroenterologist in my community whom I knew socially as the father of my son’s friend. It was an untimely and rapid death due to pancreatic cancer. He left behind a young wife and four children, two of whom are in college. I would see him periodically at school functions; he would sneak into an event at the last minute and often struggle to stay awake through squeaky orchestra concerts or long school administration speeches on the district’s budget goals. Very often he would rush out right as the event ended to go back to the office and finish up his chart work.
He had worked in a successful private practice for many years and had many, many devoted patients. However, he hated dealing with administrative matters and was accused of spending too much time with his patients by his staff. Eventually after about 25 years or so, he sold his practice to a private system in our area and became an employee. He told me that some of his burden had been lifted by not having to deal with billing or staffing issues, but he continued to work very hard to serve his patients.
At the funeral, someone told me about how they credited him with saving their mother’s life because he made a diagnosis that made the difference for her. The chapel was bursting at the seams; there was not nearly enough space for those attending the service, and many people had to content themselves with watching it on a screen outside.
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