He is Still Alive Our Thoughts, Our Hearts

It was winter, 2003, when I realized a dream of moving to New York City. I had to choose a doctor pretty quickly, I remember, and those first few weeks were problematic.

I was deliriously happy in New York, especially on the Upper West Side. So it was an easy choice to choose a West Side Dr.

I chose Dr. T.

From the moment I met him, I felt an instant kinship. Goodness knows, perhaps all of his patients felt that way. For this man was magical. He was patient. He was insightful. He had impeccable listening skills.

I remember laughing because this man, voted one of New York's finest doctors, didn't seem to invest a million bucks in upgrading his office. Things were clean enough, of course, but the patient rooms were a mix of jazz posters and his son's photographs, huge medical books and various magazines for kids. One time I took a picture of myself in front of the Dizzy Gillespie poster. I am smiling - seeing Dr. Tamarin was always a treat, no matter what else was going on.

I remember on one of our last visits looking out the window there on West End Ave. I believe we were discussing travels. He remarked that Ireland was not liberal enough for him. I can't recall the exact words he used, but he also said he didn't generally venture further east than certain countries. He loved western Europe, and was a big fan of my future working in England (or so I told him, as was my plan/dream.)

Over the years, Dr. T contributed to my AIDS walk campaign, told me not to fret over periomenopause-related pounds, encouraged my move to (then) Jersey City because I'd like the ethnic restaurants and feeling of community, didn't over-do it when it came to ordering tests, and wasn't shy about disagreeing with me on things. He knew how to take my sometimes overbearing personality and charm the daylights out of me. I really loved him.

As I recall, he had long hair, maybe a pony tail, when I first met him. In later visits, it was short.

I believe Dr. T was under severe stress in recent months, maybe years. The medical profession was costing him dearly, I imagined, and his heart-first position on treating patients was not the modus operandi of our current government.

Dr. Tamarin talked to me frequently about issues we both cared passionately about: children, affordable healthcare, maintaining good health, the arts, travel. He told me I didn't have to worry about menopause as an event so much as a gradual occurrence in my life, and never fret too much about one set of hormonal readings. For all you fortysomething women out there, you'll understand how kind this type of advice was.

I don't know how I will wake up tomorrow knowing he's gone. I only thank God I still have my beloved OB/GYN Dr. Dabney, a young woman also on the UWS, to whom I just shared my grief.

They don't make 'em like Dr. Tamarin and Dr. Lisa Dabney as much as they should.

Now: Dr. Tamarin would want everyone to go throw on a good jazz CD and hug their sons and daughters.