Incidental Findings

Medicine, Culture, and Life

Danielle Ofri

Danielle Ofri
Location
New York, New York,
Title
Physician
Bio
Danielle Ofri, M.D., Ph.D. is Associate Professor of Medicine at New York University School of Medicine and an internist at Bellevue Hospital, the oldest public hospital in the country. She is co-founder and Editor-in-Chief of the Bellevue Literary Review. Her newest book, Medicine in Translation: Journeys with my Patients--is about the experience of immigrants and Americans in the U.S. health care system. She is the author of two collections of essays about life in medicine: Incidental Findings: Lessons from my Patients in the Art of Medicine and Singular Intimacies: Becoming a Doctor at Bellevue. Danielle Ofri's writings have appeared in the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, the New England Journal of Medicine, the Lancet, and on National Public Radio. Danielle Ofri is currently working on a set of essays about medicine, while several unfinished novels in various states of disrepair gather prime New-York-City dust under her bed. Ofri lives with her husband, three children, cello, and black-lab mutt in a singularly intimate Manhattan-sized apartment. Danielle's homepage is www.danielleofri.com

MY RECENT POSTS

APRIL 30, 2010 6:35PM

St. Vincent’s Hospital (1849-2010)

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  Doctot-pt HandShake

Locking the entrance to the emergency room: there could not have been a more potent image to the final day of St. Vincent’s Hospital in New York City.

After 160 years, St. Vincent’s closed because of financial problems. It was the only hospital serving Greenwich Village and the last Catholic hospital in Manhattan.

The closing of a hospital can feel like a death in the family. A hospital is a stalwart member of the community, always there when you need it. It’s there for emergencies and it’s there for ongoing continuity medical care.

Hospitals are homes for generations of families, ushering lives in, attending lives’ ends. Hospitals are repositories for individual stories and dramas, both large and small.

When I walk down the halls of my hospital, especially in the older wings, I often feel as though the walls are permeated by the ghosts of generations of patients,. Not scary ghost, but ghosts that remind us of our history.

Climbing up the marble steps in our oldest building, I feel the smooth depressions in the marble where generations walked before me—generations of doctors, nurses, and patients.

A hospital is like a living organism, pulsing and breathing. So when one closes, it truly does feel like a death. I hope that the patients of St. Vincent’s find new doctors soon at neighboring institutions. I hope that the doctors, nurses, and administrators who have served St. Vincent’s do not end up with unemployment as the reward for their years of service. I hope that the interns and residents quickly find programs to absorb them so that they won’t lose time in their training.

It’s a sad day here in New York, but let us at least raise a toast of appreciation to St. Vincent’s hospital, for its 160 years of service, for the people who made it run, and for the patients who made it alive.

Rest in peace.

 

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Danielle Ofri is a writer and practicing internist at New York City’s Bellevue Hospital. She is the editor-in-chief of the Bellevue Literary Review. Her newest book is Medicine in Translation: Journeys with my Patients. Her book is about the medical care of immigrants and Americans in the US health care system.

 

View the YouTube book trailer.

 

You can follow Danielle on Twitter and Facebook, or visit her homepage.

 

 

 

 

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Comments

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I moved from NYC a few years ago, eventually to Seattle, so I was unaware of the closing. I am saddened and shocked to hear this news. Thanks for posting, it must be particularly hard for the staff, and this is a fine tribute. I have many personal memories. My best friend, among many other young men, died of AIDS at St. Vincent's during the 90's. I also walked from mid town down 7th Ave to St. Vincent's on 9/11/01 to volunteer and waited among a throng of volunteers coming to understand that there would be few survivors to minister to. I'm not inclined to be sentimental often, but this is a real loss for the village.