Promises Kept 5

The 1930s. It was very difficult for a Jewish student to get into Medical School; it was very difficult for a Jewish doctor to get hospital privileges. That is why so many U.S. cities have Mt. Sinai, Beth Israel, and other Jewish hospitals built by the community to provide for Jewish doctors and the Jewish community.

In the 1940s and 50s I lived in Brooklyn New York, I was born in The Brooklyn Jewish Hospital and my family doctor was one, Jacob Y. Cohen. He was a Jewish doctor, trained in the U.S. and an extraordinary human being in every sense of the word.

He was gruff, unsmiling, and always focused on the matter at hand; he was idolized by my parents and the community.

In 1959 when I was in my junior year at college, I remember an encounter when he asked me about my major area of study. I replied, "Pre-med". He broke into a grin and said, "Maybe someday you'll be my doctor."

In 1979 I had a large Internal Medicine/Cardiology practice in Manhattan. I'd not been in touch with Dr. Cohen in 20 years. Eleven o`clock pm and the phone rings. On the line is a hysterical woman who identifies herself as the wife of Dr. Cohen, "from Brooklyn! Your old doctor". Breathlessly she indicated that her husband had, apparently, suffered a stroke at home.

In response to my query, she stated that he never had had a personal physician. He had no doctor and no medical history in the 55 years that they had been married. His only instruction with regards to his health had been that in the event of an emergency to call Morty Leibowitz, and he had provided her with my phone number.

After a pause during which I absorbed what was happening, I told her I was sending an ambulance to their home and he would be brought to the Emergency Room at the New York University Hospital and that I would meet them there.

Dr. Cohen was admitted to NYU Hospital under my care. We stabilized his condition, assessed his overall health which, given his age, was excellent and eventually discharged him to home care with visiting nurse and physical therapy at home.

I continued to counsel his wife regarding his care and he eventually was admitted to an outstanding long care facility. The thrilling memory of helping my childhood model, some 50 years after I had last been seen by him, stays with me to this day. A perceived Promise Kept.