This remembrance was written by Thai's friend Ali O'Halloran, a friend of Thai's from Andover. I remember Thai always speaking very fondly of her and her e-mails to me have been loving and gracious, but sadly I've never met her. Hopefully some day, Ali, we can meet and you can tell me more about what my husband was like when you met him--exactly the same age as Nicholas is now.
It is past midnight, so it means that today is Thai's memorial service. How can that be? Words are hard to come by, but it is the least I can do to try.
I met Thai in 1981, when he literally swooped into view on his skateboard. "Hi, I'm Thai!" I remember that day so vividly. The afternoon sun wound through the leaves, the leaves themselves rustling and leaving dappled shadows. Nervous, kinetic energy was everywhere as we all tried to act like this sudden deposition of our young selves into a storied prep school was all cool and part of the plan.
We had an easy start to our friendship as I had just come from Thailand to Andover, a world away from my family. He was wearing a kelly green polo shirt and faded OP shorts. His hair feathered back a bit, he was tan, those amazing eyes and that California easy going vibe; that was Thai and I hung onto the name and the promise of no sweat, hang ten, take it easy. Little did I know that his particular California vibe hummed with his energy, his passion, his intensity. Little did I know that I had just been given the gift of a most wondrous kind soul, and that we'd spend 3 years closely together as friends.
Thai's first girlfriend at Andover was my good friend. My boyfriend lived in Thai's dorm. We had a lot to talk about, Thai and I, and we did. What is lust vs. love? How does attraction work? Is this because we are far from home? I don't understand my math (that would be my question) I have to get back before sign in time. See you tomorrow! Thai and I were ahead of ourselves. We kissed each other on the cheek often to say bye. Platonic kisses, kind kisses, and kisses that made sense given whatever deep revelations we had just sifted out in the time together. I'd lie with my head on his stomach and we'd both talk and laugh through stories.
I am hard of hearing and wear hearing aids and rely a lot on lip reading. Thai was naturally curious, wanting to know what I could or couldn't hear. "How do I know what I don't hear if I haven't heard it,?' I'd ask and we'd dissolve into laughter and silly thoughts. I'd turn over and rest my arms on Thai's stomach and look up at him. A bit awkward for friends, but it was a way to get close and lip read. I needed to lip read Thai because he had so much to say! And somehow, we were comfortable with it.
Even as I got myself into a "heavy" relationship while Thai's relationship with my friend didn't last long, Thai and I still connected. He was alternatively the voice of reason and the total imp. He gave a weird smile once to me and I turned to my boyfriend and wondered out loud what the little knowing smirk was about. It figures--the two of them had discussed sex and Thai must have thought something had happened!
I ran back to find Thai, "No way Thai! nothing!" and he looked at me and said "aaahahah." Anyway, Thai's knowing glance was wrong then, probably one of the few times Thai was flat out wrong! Thai running with no socks on. Thai muttering about the cold, Thai asking me if his clothes matched. Oh Thai! A few letters in college to each other and a meetup in LA. He met me at the door with a skull in his hands. He was trying to get the cranial nerves down. I couldn't resist: "To be, or not to be.." we walked and sat at a park bench near the ocean. I gave him the details of the death knell of my Andover relationship--one that had had many death knells-but this was the final curtain drawn. He listened and supported and I leaned into him. Still Thai, still so easy to hang out with. He told me I was beyond and needed more, that there was so much more and so much better out there for me. "All the fish in the sea!" as he pointed to the ocean, as earnest as a vacuum cleaner door to door salesman! I had to laugh. Once again, the guy made me laugh!
And then for whatever reason, I lost touch. I had an ambivalent read of my Andover years; so thrilled with the learning, but also a measure of regret that I was just so damn needy and in this way- over -my head relationship. Part of me pushed out Andover because I didn't like my lovelorn dependency back then. I could have made many more enduring friendships and most certainly could have stayed in better touch with the friends I had.
Facebook and Thai! We chatted recently, comparing medical and anatomical differences (I am a veterinarian) and discussing odd cases that might have benefited from having both an ER physician and a veterinarian on site. He talked about feeling that sometimes he just got too rational and matter of fact and had to remember sentience/emotions and passing news gently. I have no doubt he did this well; he was just thinking about how to do it better. We chatted about sleep, drugs, snoring, swimming, kids, dogs, food, Andover, hospital revenue, insurance companies, and maybe we even hit the weather. Yes, we did chat about the weather!
I feel his death poignantly. There is another weird tangential distress for me. Thai was there to soothe Chris (my then boyfriend) when his Dad unexpectedly passed away while we were at Andover. Chris' dad was 43 and out on his bike . This coincidence has me tumbling into the rabbit hole.
I can only say, with tears in my eyes, thank you Thai, for being my friend. For finding your soulmate in Katherine (I told you you would!) and loving her fully, for your beautiful boys who will carry their mother through the dark times just as she will carry them. For knowing how much a dog brings unconditional love to a family. For building a family. I love you, my friend. I miss you. Next time I'm out that way, I'm going to walk Andover one more time for you. Be Happy wherever you are. Grab a skateboard and go!
with love, Ali
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Another online appreciation
I found this online appreciation of Thai while browsing his web posts. I knew many of his blogs, but was not aware he posted on this one. The name of the blog is Movin' Meat:
The Accidental Blog of a Semi-accidental ER doc living in the Pacific Northwest. Here it is:
Thai was a regular commenter who gave me a lot of grief. He had a much more conservative view, especially on the economics of medicine and the outlook for the future, with or without health care reform. He was dogged in arguing his point, but he was always respectful and on-topic. When I saw his name pop up in the comments I always had to brace myself for the vigorous back and forth that was sure to follow. We went to the same residency program, a few years apart. We never met but we corresponded a fair bit off-line.I just found out that he died last week after sustaining a heart attack. He left behind a wife and four boys. I'll miss his contributions, and my thoughts are with his family just now.In lieu of flowers, his family suggests donations to the Thai McGreivy, M.D. Memorial Fund, which was established by the family in Thai’s honor to fund educational scholarships for excellence and intellectual curiosity in science, mathematics and economics. To contribute by check: Make checks payable to the “Thai McGreivy, M.D. Memorial Fund/CFNCR” And mail them to: The Community Foundation for the National Capital Region Attn: Kenny Emson, 1201 15th Street NW, Suite 420, Washington, DC 20005
The Accidental Blog of a Semi-accidental ER doc living in the Pacific Northwest. Here it is:
Thai was a regular commenter who gave me a lot of grief. He had a much more conservative view, especially on the economics of medicine and the outlook for the future, with or without health care reform. He was dogged in arguing his point, but he was always respectful and on-topic. When I saw his name pop up in the comments I always had to brace myself for the vigorous back and forth that was sure to follow. We went to the same residency program, a few years apart. We never met but we corresponded a fair bit off-line.I just found out that he died last week after sustaining a heart attack. He left behind a wife and four boys. I'll miss his contributions, and my thoughts are with his family just now.In lieu of flowers, his family suggests donations to the Thai McGreivy, M.D. Memorial Fund, which was established by the family in Thai’s honor to fund educational scholarships for excellence and intellectual curiosity in science, mathematics and economics. To contribute by check: Make checks payable to the “Thai McGreivy, M.D. Memorial Fund/CFNCR” And mail them to: The Community Foundation for the National Capital Region Attn: Kenny Emson, 1201 15th Street NW, Suite 420, Washington, DC 20005
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
An appreciation of Thai
Some of you may have already seen the piece on Thai in the Post Health section on Tuesday June 15, 2010. It was written by our friend John Donnelly, a journalist whose writing I have long admired as he covered BCC’s track and field team. When he asked me if I were interested in him writing something on Thai, I said absolutely knowing it would be wonderful. What is below is a longer and even more personal version of the piece that was published in the Post:
On May 29, at 8:18 p.m., Dr. Thai McGreivy posted a guest blog on the Street Rat Crazy Saloon site titled, ``OK, my first short health care thoughts.’’ The item wasn’t so short, it wasn’t just about health care, but it was vintage McGreivy – provocative and piecing together seemingly disconnected big issues.
He wrote that municipalities were in budget crises and they might take aim at Emergency Medical Services. It made sense, he said, because spending had risen rapidly for EMS, but those extra costs weren’t resulting in improved survival rates.
Less than two days later, on Memorial Day, McGreivy, 43, suffered a massive heart attack while biking on Goldsboro Road in Bethesda en route for a long ride to Poolesville. EMS paramedics rushed to the scene, where he lay unconscious with no pulse. They did everything possible, including getting him to an emergency room at Suburban Hospital as quickly as possible. There, a team revived his heart.
McGreivy, an emergency room physician himself, remained in a coma as his heart showed signs of recovery. Four days after his collapse, doctors performed a critical test – a CAT scan on his brain, and the results were heartbreaking: severe brain damage due to a long period of oxygen deprivation. Nearly one week after his heart attack, officials pronounced him brain dead and his family authorized doctors to harvest all salvageable organs for those in need.
In death, McGreivy gave life – two kidneys and enough tissue for roughly 20 medical applications -- and his family and friends are grateful for the exemplary work of the EMS crew. They kept him alive against all odds.
But his guest blog post wasn’t wrong – not in terms of the metrics of public health. And therein lies a story about a relatively young man who left a mark on the quality of health care around the region precisely because he was unafraid to challenge anyone or anything, especially when it came to health care. In a very real sense, long before the national health reform debate, McGreivy was a one-man reformer – about a host of national issues around budgets and health and energy.
McGreivy, a husband, father of four boys, California born, was passionate about figuring out what made things work and what were the underlying factors that influenced outcomes, ranging from emergency rooms to global economic crises.
``His mind never stopped – ever,’’ said his wife, Katherine, softly laughing. ``I loved him dearly, but sometimes he was exhausting. He never stopped thinking and analyzing, and he always wanted to talk about ideas, and after hours of this, I would be, like, `Can’t we just gossip about the neighbors?’’’
He was chief financial officer of Medical Emergency Professionals (MEP), a 100-plus-employee company based in Germantown that runs five emergency rooms in Maryland – Shady Grove Adventist Hospital and Germantown Emergency Center in Rockville; Washington County Hospital in Hagerstown; Western Maryland Health System in Cumberland; and St. Mary’s Hospital in Leonardtown.
In all, the group, which started in 1997, oversees the emergency-room treatment of 300,000 patients a year; it contracts with each hospital, assuming all costs of ER service (which often run at a huge deficit to hospitals in part because of the numbers of uninsured) for no fee.
In each hospital, McGreivy and his partners strove to find cost-saving efficiencies while also improving patient care. In both Hagerstown and Cumberland, their system saved hospitals hundreds of thousands of dollar a year and shaved time off how long patients had to wait to see a doctor or nurse. At St. Mary’s Hospital, surveys showed patient satisfaction doubled over the past five years, now reaching levels of more than 90 percent reporting being satisified with their care.
McGreivy, said hospital CEO and President Christine R. Wray, ``was a tremendous catalyst to help St. Mary's Hospital change for the good. He was a terrific advocate in pursuit of excellence through data analysis.’’
Dr. Angelo Falcone, CEO of MEP, said McGreivy frequently pushed his peers. ``He always talked about how we had to make the hard decisions from an efficiency standpoint, and make sure they positively impact patients’ health,’’ he said.
One example rose in the Hagerstown hospital recently – a puzzle as to why doctors were seeing fewer patients than targets set by the group. At first, McGreivy and others hired $20-an-hour scribes to take notes for doctors, but that did not get the desired results. McGreivy studied it some more, discovering an anomaly at the hospital: physician assistants were seeing an unusually high number of patients. This was a problem because some of those patients could have gone straight to the doctor, and the doctors, in the meantime, had too much time on their hands. They could have been more productive – a cost savings to MEP and also, ultimately, to patients.
``There were a lot of moving parts in trying to figure out what was going on – 15 to 20 variables,’’ said Dr. Michael Cetta, MEP’s chief of business development. ``But he was able to think out of the box, and identify why it wasn’t working as well as possible. At our last management meeting, just a few weeks ago, he had figured it out, and now we are trying to fix it.’’
That was just one part of McGreivy’s impact, said his peers.
Justin Shaper, chief technology officer at PSR, a Dallas-based company that worked with MEP to help it manage its business, recalled how he and McGreivy developed software to standardize reviews of doctors’ charts of patients. Today, MEP and roughly a dozen other doctors’ groups around the country now use this more scientific approach to better evaluate doctors’ performance.
``There are a lot of overachievers out there, but what was special about Thai was that he never lost sight of the human connection in things – he kept coming back to the patient quality of care,’’ Shaper said, talking on his cell-phone while driving into downtown Dallas. He started to choke up. ``I’m sorry,’’ he said finally. ``Let me tell you a story about a dinner that we had together.’’
Seven years ago, Shaper, his wife, and their two children were eating a meal with McGreivy during a break in a conference in the Florida Keys, in Islamorada. ``At one point, Thai, who is an emergency room physician, one of a group of people who work under phenomenal pressure, who make life-and-death decisions, who make life better for people every day, he turns to my kids and says, `I hope you know your dad is helping save people’s lives.’’’
Shaper wept over the phone. ``That was the thing about Thai – while he was really into all these intellectual things, he still had an appreciation for what others were doing, and he let them know they were a part of doing something important.’’
And so it was, too, in his blog on EMS for Street Rat Crazy Saloon, when after writing about the questionable costs of EMS services, he wrote, ``I truly think most of the men and women in EMS are heroes.’’
In the hours before doctors removed McGreivy’s organs on June 6, Katherine McGreivy, in a waiting room with Falcone, decided to look up her husband’s most recent blogs on an iPhone. She found the EMS post.
``It gave me goose bumps,’’ she said. ``While we’re waiting for the whole surgery and the donation, we’re reading about his thoughts on EMS, and do they make a difference in outcome. Because he was saved from an almost certain sudden death, two people are getting a kidney, many others are getting tissues. It did make a difference – with him. He was still giving life even in his death.’’
A memorial service for McGreivy is scheduled for Thursday June 17 at 3 p.m. at the Bethesda Theatre at 7719 Wisconsin Avenue, Bethesda. The family has set up a memorial fund in honor of McGreivy that will fund educational scholarships for excellence and intellectual curiosity in science, mathematics and economics. In lieu of flowers, our family will request donations to this fund.
On May 29, at 8:18 p.m., Dr. Thai McGreivy posted a guest blog on the Street Rat Crazy Saloon site titled, ``OK, my first short health care thoughts.’’ The item wasn’t so short, it wasn’t just about health care, but it was vintage McGreivy – provocative and piecing together seemingly disconnected big issues.
He wrote that municipalities were in budget crises and they might take aim at Emergency Medical Services. It made sense, he said, because spending had risen rapidly for EMS, but those extra costs weren’t resulting in improved survival rates.
Less than two days later, on Memorial Day, McGreivy, 43, suffered a massive heart attack while biking on Goldsboro Road in Bethesda en route for a long ride to Poolesville. EMS paramedics rushed to the scene, where he lay unconscious with no pulse. They did everything possible, including getting him to an emergency room at Suburban Hospital as quickly as possible. There, a team revived his heart.
McGreivy, an emergency room physician himself, remained in a coma as his heart showed signs of recovery. Four days after his collapse, doctors performed a critical test – a CAT scan on his brain, and the results were heartbreaking: severe brain damage due to a long period of oxygen deprivation. Nearly one week after his heart attack, officials pronounced him brain dead and his family authorized doctors to harvest all salvageable organs for those in need.
In death, McGreivy gave life – two kidneys and enough tissue for roughly 20 medical applications -- and his family and friends are grateful for the exemplary work of the EMS crew. They kept him alive against all odds.
But his guest blog post wasn’t wrong – not in terms of the metrics of public health. And therein lies a story about a relatively young man who left a mark on the quality of health care around the region precisely because he was unafraid to challenge anyone or anything, especially when it came to health care. In a very real sense, long before the national health reform debate, McGreivy was a one-man reformer – about a host of national issues around budgets and health and energy.
McGreivy, a husband, father of four boys, California born, was passionate about figuring out what made things work and what were the underlying factors that influenced outcomes, ranging from emergency rooms to global economic crises.
``His mind never stopped – ever,’’ said his wife, Katherine, softly laughing. ``I loved him dearly, but sometimes he was exhausting. He never stopped thinking and analyzing, and he always wanted to talk about ideas, and after hours of this, I would be, like, `Can’t we just gossip about the neighbors?’’’
He was chief financial officer of Medical Emergency Professionals (MEP), a 100-plus-employee company based in Germantown that runs five emergency rooms in Maryland – Shady Grove Adventist Hospital and Germantown Emergency Center in Rockville; Washington County Hospital in Hagerstown; Western Maryland Health System in Cumberland; and St. Mary’s Hospital in Leonardtown.
In all, the group, which started in 1997, oversees the emergency-room treatment of 300,000 patients a year; it contracts with each hospital, assuming all costs of ER service (which often run at a huge deficit to hospitals in part because of the numbers of uninsured) for no fee.
In each hospital, McGreivy and his partners strove to find cost-saving efficiencies while also improving patient care. In both Hagerstown and Cumberland, their system saved hospitals hundreds of thousands of dollar a year and shaved time off how long patients had to wait to see a doctor or nurse. At St. Mary’s Hospital, surveys showed patient satisfaction doubled over the past five years, now reaching levels of more than 90 percent reporting being satisified with their care.
McGreivy, said hospital CEO and President Christine R. Wray, ``was a tremendous catalyst to help St. Mary's Hospital change for the good. He was a terrific advocate in pursuit of excellence through data analysis.’’
Dr. Angelo Falcone, CEO of MEP, said McGreivy frequently pushed his peers. ``He always talked about how we had to make the hard decisions from an efficiency standpoint, and make sure they positively impact patients’ health,’’ he said.
One example rose in the Hagerstown hospital recently – a puzzle as to why doctors were seeing fewer patients than targets set by the group. At first, McGreivy and others hired $20-an-hour scribes to take notes for doctors, but that did not get the desired results. McGreivy studied it some more, discovering an anomaly at the hospital: physician assistants were seeing an unusually high number of patients. This was a problem because some of those patients could have gone straight to the doctor, and the doctors, in the meantime, had too much time on their hands. They could have been more productive – a cost savings to MEP and also, ultimately, to patients.
``There were a lot of moving parts in trying to figure out what was going on – 15 to 20 variables,’’ said Dr. Michael Cetta, MEP’s chief of business development. ``But he was able to think out of the box, and identify why it wasn’t working as well as possible. At our last management meeting, just a few weeks ago, he had figured it out, and now we are trying to fix it.’’
That was just one part of McGreivy’s impact, said his peers.
Justin Shaper, chief technology officer at PSR, a Dallas-based company that worked with MEP to help it manage its business, recalled how he and McGreivy developed software to standardize reviews of doctors’ charts of patients. Today, MEP and roughly a dozen other doctors’ groups around the country now use this more scientific approach to better evaluate doctors’ performance.
``There are a lot of overachievers out there, but what was special about Thai was that he never lost sight of the human connection in things – he kept coming back to the patient quality of care,’’ Shaper said, talking on his cell-phone while driving into downtown Dallas. He started to choke up. ``I’m sorry,’’ he said finally. ``Let me tell you a story about a dinner that we had together.’’
Seven years ago, Shaper, his wife, and their two children were eating a meal with McGreivy during a break in a conference in the Florida Keys, in Islamorada. ``At one point, Thai, who is an emergency room physician, one of a group of people who work under phenomenal pressure, who make life-and-death decisions, who make life better for people every day, he turns to my kids and says, `I hope you know your dad is helping save people’s lives.’’’
Shaper wept over the phone. ``That was the thing about Thai – while he was really into all these intellectual things, he still had an appreciation for what others were doing, and he let them know they were a part of doing something important.’’
And so it was, too, in his blog on EMS for Street Rat Crazy Saloon, when after writing about the questionable costs of EMS services, he wrote, ``I truly think most of the men and women in EMS are heroes.’’
In the hours before doctors removed McGreivy’s organs on June 6, Katherine McGreivy, in a waiting room with Falcone, decided to look up her husband’s most recent blogs on an iPhone. She found the EMS post.
``It gave me goose bumps,’’ she said. ``While we’re waiting for the whole surgery and the donation, we’re reading about his thoughts on EMS, and do they make a difference in outcome. Because he was saved from an almost certain sudden death, two people are getting a kidney, many others are getting tissues. It did make a difference – with him. He was still giving life even in his death.’’
A memorial service for McGreivy is scheduled for Thursday June 17 at 3 p.m. at the Bethesda Theatre at 7719 Wisconsin Avenue, Bethesda. The family has set up a memorial fund in honor of McGreivy that will fund educational scholarships for excellence and intellectual curiosity in science, mathematics and economics. In lieu of flowers, our family will request donations to this fund.
Monday, June 21, 2010
MEP Partner and Friend
One of the few bright spots in this tragic time has been the opportunity to get to better know Mike and Denise Cetta. They are truly wonderful people. They both spent three hours at my house going through family photos to make the memorial videos and then put together a bike rack I had ordered. When Mike came back to pick up additional photos, he added a right click to Thai's Mac, valiantly attempted to fix my basement shower before family came, and figured out how to work our ridiculously complicated media system, something that only Thai truly understood before. (To save money, Thai had bought our projection TV directly from Japan. So yes, all the buttons on the projector and the remote are labelled in Japanese which never bothered Thai, but makes using it a guessing game for the rest of us.) So thank you to you both for all you've done for us and I hope you're having a wonderful time in Italy. This was Mike's speech at the memorial:
Hey Thai.
We are all puzzled how this could happen to a man like you. I know it is no surprise but you will be missed by your partners, your friends, your mom, Jesse, Kat, and perhaps most of all, by your sons. We are all going to miss you.
You were an interesting man. I’m not sure anyone truly understood you – but everyone appreciated how you thought, who you were. Your uniqueness, your passion.
At times I thought I knew you well – I could guess when you would speak up in a meeting. I knew your car was a mess and your shoes were old. I knew you’d be late for your shifts, your scrubs wouldn’t be tucked in and your white coat wouldn’t be so white. You’d have a 20 ounce coffee and probably some Chipotle. Before you’d start working you’d engage me in a conversation I had little understanding of – world economy or fractals – I’d go off to my shift in a haze of awe and confusion at the power of your intellect. I felt a great sense of accomplishment if I could simply grasp PART of what you were talking about… it was a real victory for me.
I don’t know if you put sugar in your coffee or when you went to bed – but I do know your mind never slept.
Forgive me for a moment while I indulge your guests here today. I saw your computer last week and couldn’t help to smile when I saw your desktop. Not too surprising…a graph.
You were an interesting man. I’m not sure anyone truly understood you – but everyone appreciated how you thought, who you were. Your uniqueness, your passion.
At times I thought I knew you well – I could guess when you would speak up in a meeting. I knew your car was a mess and your shoes were old. I knew you’d be late for your shifts, your scrubs wouldn’t be tucked in and your white coat wouldn’t be so white. You’d have a 20 ounce coffee and probably some Chipotle. Before you’d start working you’d engage me in a conversation I had little understanding of – world economy or fractals – I’d go off to my shift in a haze of awe and confusion at the power of your intellect. I felt a great sense of accomplishment if I could simply grasp PART of what you were talking about… it was a real victory for me.
I don’t know if you put sugar in your coffee or when you went to bed – but I do know your mind never slept.
Forgive me for a moment while I indulge your guests here today. I saw your computer last week and couldn’t help to smile when I saw your desktop. Not too surprising…a graph.
And I can’t help myself to show everybody this photo I took last year. I looked into your briefcase and saw a tangle of cords. Hoisting it high, I took this priceless photograph at arms length. A pen, 3 sets of headphones, a mouse and a yo-yo…now if that isn’t quintessential Thai…
Thank you for our time together. Our bike rides through Poolesville and a two-hour education on the global debt crisis and how China owns the US. Or our run on the Eastern Shore and the tale of your mother’s childhood. Thank you for telling it like it is. Thank you for keeping us all honest. Thank you for keeping us intellectually engaged.
I suppose the irony behind all this is that it wouldn’t have been a surprise to you – perhaps you could have predicted it. You’d have some sort of graph, somewhere, tucked away.
Thank you for being a friend and a mentor. Thank you for being an intellectually curious person. I want to thank you for being an amazing son and brother. I want to thank you for being a tremendous husband to your wife and father to your sons. You’ve made a contribution to this world and your legacy will last. You, Thai, are not just another dot on the graph or statistical point (although you may have argued otherwise). You are unique and your soul will live on.
We will carry you with us forever my friend. We love you.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Remembrance for a son-in-law
My father and Thai shared a special bond. Able to spar intellectually and both loving active and outdoor activities, they became as close as a father and son, especially after Thai's dad died seven years ago. My father, Matthews Bradley, spoke of his 22 years getting to know Thai.
My main purpose in speaking is to tell you all a little bit about the love and times I shared with Thai for more than 20 years now. Before that though I want to express my appreciation and awe of you here who have given such extraordinary support and love to Katherine and the boys in their time of need. Your community and Thai’s colleagues are remarkable. Thank you.
I first met Thai in Los Angeles when he was in medical school and Katherine was in law school at UCLA. I was out in CA for a meeting of the AACR and stopped by to see Katherine. She wanted me to meet Thai and implied that this was a “serious relationship.” I instantly liked him, thought he was fun, funny, bright, inquisitive, a great conversationalist, and handsome. A keeper I thought, and said so to Katherine. She seemed pleased that we both took to each other. I know some people never seem to bond or even like their sons or daughters in law. That thought never occurred to me—I thought they were perfectly matched the first time I saw them together.
Then they both went to Seattle for the summer with Thai doing a rotation and Katherine interning at a law firm. I was in Seattle at another conference and we all went hiking with a colleague of mine from graduate school who was then a professor in the med school at UW. I remember Stan telling me: “I wish my future son-in-law was more like Thai.” That was the effect Thai had even on people who didn’t know him well.
The next time I met Thai was at Katherine’s law school graduation when Lynne and I both came to LA. I was pleased and proud that she had won so many honors at her school and equally as pleased that Thai was still very much a part of her life. Lynne and I remember Thai driving us around LA and showing us the sights in his Dad’s Mercedes. He had a pony tail then and looked very hip and LA and really knew the city. Katherine, Thai, Lynne, and I met Thai’s father and step-mom Pat at some cool LA restaurant I can’t remember the name of, but we had a great time with them.
I remember when Katherine was staying with us at the farm over Christmas and was wondering what to do about Thai who wasn’t sure he wanted to get married just then. Do men ever come clean? We encouraged her to tell him that marriage was what she wanted and to ask for a commitment from him. After this, Thai came into town for his residency interviews at Johns Hopkins and George Washington and stayed with us. During this time, Thai said he would like to invite Lynne and me to Blues Alley for a night on the town in appreciation for our hospitality. I told him we’d love to do it, but that he owed us nothing. He said no, no, he insisted on treating us. Fine. What a great fellow I thought. Little did I intuit that a second motivation was that he was going to ask me formally for Katherine’s hand in marriage. After he asked in the most sincere and heart-felt words and tones, I smiled, hugged him and said of course, yes, we will be delighted to have you in our family.
After Katherine accepted his proposal, Thai had started his internship and residency at Johns Hopkins and came to live with us in an au pair suite we had on our farm. We like to think we made his life a little easier while under the intense pressure of internship and residency. All he had to do was come home, eat what we left for him if he didn’t make dinner, flop into bed, and go around again. When he was off, we would have a great time going out in our boat, canoeing on the lake near us, or going into DC, or to restaurants or often, drinking some wine and staying up late talking into the night about science, medicine, politics, humanism, religion (and our discontents about it)—but, of course, that was before he was captured by fractals and the dismal science—economics.
Three months later, after she finished her clerkship, Katherine joined Thai to live with us and they both commuted in opposite directions, Katherine to DC and her law job at Wilmer, and Thai continuing his residency at Hopkins. Again Lynne and I loved having them live with us and were sorry when, after six months more, they moved to their own place in Bethesda. Of course, we understood why they did it and would have done the same ourselves, if we had been them.
All of us together next planned their wedding which we wanted to have at our farm with a horse drawn carriage and an open bar on the veranda facing the driveway as they drove up from the little Episcopal country church where they were married. It was a beautiful but hot August afternoon and night, and a great party, and I was sorry when it was over. We had relatives and friends of ours and theirs and Carol’s and Ed’s coming from far and wide. The next day we took the wedding party to the Chesapeake for a fast tour of St. Michaels in our boat.
After their marriage, they both worked at their careers. I was proud of them and how hard they worked and had formed a solid union that gave all of us a great deal of pleasure just watching. Thai and Katherine paid us back very quickly the down payment we had lent them to buy their house. Thai was quite proud of that and so was I.
What seems very soon after that: Nicholas came along and then Luke and Kyle and then James. Lynne became pregnant and we added Claire to our family only nine months before James, so, a true multi-generational family.
I remember that Nick was fascinated by big machines and knew the names of more of them than I did by the time he was three. I remember taking him and then Luke, Kyle, and James for rides on the big farm tractor we had with Thai cheering them on. We put each of the boys on a horse with Thai holding the boys and me leading the horse. Katherine didn’t always know or approve if she saw us.
I always looked forward to knowing that Thai would be coming to our family gatherings. Often, and somewhat to Katherine’s chagrin, Thai and I would grab some wine and spend hours talking about medicine or politics or lately economics and fractals and Niall Ferguson or Sam Harris or Richard Dawkins. He was always curious about my biotech ventures and would ask one incisive question after another. One trip I’ll never forget happened after Thais’ father Denis died and I had just bought a boat in Florida that I needed help bringing up the waterway. Thai volunteered to accompany me and we together piloted it up the Intracoastal and offshore. Out in the Atlantic we saw dolphins, sharks, and a whale. We had a blast getting to know each other even more and continuing our endless conversations. It was special for both of us.
There’s a lot more I could say, but those are the early highlights
In summary: I don’t have enough positive adjectives, verbs, or nouns to express what I feel about my son-in–law. Among the ones that stand out:
Brilliant—yes, one of the brightest men I ever knew
Moral: yes, he had an inherent sense of what was right and wrong
Humanist: yes, he loved all mankind with all our warts and flowers, and worked to make everyone better.
Intense and focused: yes, and these are qualities that gets things done and that make the world a better place.
Scientist: yes, one who knew how to ask the incisive question and then figure a way to answer it.
And then his family values: love and respect for all of us—I never heard him say anything unkind about anyone,
I will miss him more that I can say.
Thank you.
My main purpose in speaking is to tell you all a little bit about the love and times I shared with Thai for more than 20 years now. Before that though I want to express my appreciation and awe of you here who have given such extraordinary support and love to Katherine and the boys in their time of need. Your community and Thai’s colleagues are remarkable. Thank you.
I first met Thai in Los Angeles when he was in medical school and Katherine was in law school at UCLA. I was out in CA for a meeting of the AACR and stopped by to see Katherine. She wanted me to meet Thai and implied that this was a “serious relationship.” I instantly liked him, thought he was fun, funny, bright, inquisitive, a great conversationalist, and handsome. A keeper I thought, and said so to Katherine. She seemed pleased that we both took to each other. I know some people never seem to bond or even like their sons or daughters in law. That thought never occurred to me—I thought they were perfectly matched the first time I saw them together.
Then they both went to Seattle for the summer with Thai doing a rotation and Katherine interning at a law firm. I was in Seattle at another conference and we all went hiking with a colleague of mine from graduate school who was then a professor in the med school at UW. I remember Stan telling me: “I wish my future son-in-law was more like Thai.” That was the effect Thai had even on people who didn’t know him well.
The next time I met Thai was at Katherine’s law school graduation when Lynne and I both came to LA. I was pleased and proud that she had won so many honors at her school and equally as pleased that Thai was still very much a part of her life. Lynne and I remember Thai driving us around LA and showing us the sights in his Dad’s Mercedes. He had a pony tail then and looked very hip and LA and really knew the city. Katherine, Thai, Lynne, and I met Thai’s father and step-mom Pat at some cool LA restaurant I can’t remember the name of, but we had a great time with them.
I remember when Katherine was staying with us at the farm over Christmas and was wondering what to do about Thai who wasn’t sure he wanted to get married just then. Do men ever come clean? We encouraged her to tell him that marriage was what she wanted and to ask for a commitment from him. After this, Thai came into town for his residency interviews at Johns Hopkins and George Washington and stayed with us. During this time, Thai said he would like to invite Lynne and me to Blues Alley for a night on the town in appreciation for our hospitality. I told him we’d love to do it, but that he owed us nothing. He said no, no, he insisted on treating us. Fine. What a great fellow I thought. Little did I intuit that a second motivation was that he was going to ask me formally for Katherine’s hand in marriage. After he asked in the most sincere and heart-felt words and tones, I smiled, hugged him and said of course, yes, we will be delighted to have you in our family.
After Katherine accepted his proposal, Thai had started his internship and residency at Johns Hopkins and came to live with us in an au pair suite we had on our farm. We like to think we made his life a little easier while under the intense pressure of internship and residency. All he had to do was come home, eat what we left for him if he didn’t make dinner, flop into bed, and go around again. When he was off, we would have a great time going out in our boat, canoeing on the lake near us, or going into DC, or to restaurants or often, drinking some wine and staying up late talking into the night about science, medicine, politics, humanism, religion (and our discontents about it)—but, of course, that was before he was captured by fractals and the dismal science—economics.
Three months later, after she finished her clerkship, Katherine joined Thai to live with us and they both commuted in opposite directions, Katherine to DC and her law job at Wilmer, and Thai continuing his residency at Hopkins. Again Lynne and I loved having them live with us and were sorry when, after six months more, they moved to their own place in Bethesda. Of course, we understood why they did it and would have done the same ourselves, if we had been them.
All of us together next planned their wedding which we wanted to have at our farm with a horse drawn carriage and an open bar on the veranda facing the driveway as they drove up from the little Episcopal country church where they were married. It was a beautiful but hot August afternoon and night, and a great party, and I was sorry when it was over. We had relatives and friends of ours and theirs and Carol’s and Ed’s coming from far and wide. The next day we took the wedding party to the Chesapeake for a fast tour of St. Michaels in our boat.
After their marriage, they both worked at their careers. I was proud of them and how hard they worked and had formed a solid union that gave all of us a great deal of pleasure just watching. Thai and Katherine paid us back very quickly the down payment we had lent them to buy their house. Thai was quite proud of that and so was I.
What seems very soon after that: Nicholas came along and then Luke and Kyle and then James. Lynne became pregnant and we added Claire to our family only nine months before James, so, a true multi-generational family.
I remember that Nick was fascinated by big machines and knew the names of more of them than I did by the time he was three. I remember taking him and then Luke, Kyle, and James for rides on the big farm tractor we had with Thai cheering them on. We put each of the boys on a horse with Thai holding the boys and me leading the horse. Katherine didn’t always know or approve if she saw us.
I always looked forward to knowing that Thai would be coming to our family gatherings. Often, and somewhat to Katherine’s chagrin, Thai and I would grab some wine and spend hours talking about medicine or politics or lately economics and fractals and Niall Ferguson or Sam Harris or Richard Dawkins. He was always curious about my biotech ventures and would ask one incisive question after another. One trip I’ll never forget happened after Thais’ father Denis died and I had just bought a boat in Florida that I needed help bringing up the waterway. Thai volunteered to accompany me and we together piloted it up the Intracoastal and offshore. Out in the Atlantic we saw dolphins, sharks, and a whale. We had a blast getting to know each other even more and continuing our endless conversations. It was special for both of us.
There’s a lot more I could say, but those are the early highlights
In summary: I don’t have enough positive adjectives, verbs, or nouns to express what I feel about my son-in–law. Among the ones that stand out:
Brilliant—yes, one of the brightest men I ever knew
Moral: yes, he had an inherent sense of what was right and wrong
Humanist: yes, he loved all mankind with all our warts and flowers, and worked to make everyone better.
Intense and focused: yes, and these are qualities that gets things done and that make the world a better place.
Scientist: yes, one who knew how to ask the incisive question and then figure a way to answer it.
And then his family values: love and respect for all of us—I never heard him say anything unkind about anyone,
I will miss him more that I can say.
Thank you.
Remembrance for a father
I don't think I need to say that while my heart aches for me, it breaks for my boys. The magnitude of their loss staggers me. I also don't know if I've ever been more proud of them: their bravery, their open grief, their ability to continue living and enjoying life as their father would have wished. All four participated in a candle ceremony at the memorial service where they each lit their candle from the light of a larger candle symbolizing how their father's light would continue through them. Nicholas, 14, also spoke:
I’m going to start with a story written by Thai’s mother, my grandmother, Susan:
"When Thai was thirteen years old I managed to get enough money together to buy three tickets to Hawaii. We had very few resources so we three, Thai, Jesse and Mom had most of our belongings - a stove, a small tent, our food and other necessities - in a very large backpack. We could not afford, nor did we really want to stay in a hotel. During our short stay on the Islands we decided together to hike a trail on the wet side of Kaui’i. It was a very beautiful trail running along the coastline with the mountains, green and lush, rising up the windward side. We were seeking and eventually found a beautiful waterfall several miles up the coast which splashed into a large pond. The trail ran up and down numerous small hills. I was carrying the large pack, and struggling under its load. Thai and Jesse were walking ahead of me. Suddenly, Thai who was only slightly taller than me appeared at my side. He reached over in his ever so gentle way, my Ferdinand the Bull, and took the backpack off my shoulders. He turned to me and said, “Mom I’ll carry the load now.” And, he did, he always did. When I heard other parents complain about their teenage boys, I could never understand their complaints because my Thai and my Jesse only ever “carried the load.”"
Dad has always carried the load for me. He came to all of my sports games he could, worked 12 hour shifts, helped me in my schoolwork, and taught me almost everything I know about the world, and these are only just the first things that come to mind. But I know that everything he taught me and gave me will give me the strength to carry the load myself.
Every night before my dad tucked me in to bed, he would ask me the same four questions. This nightly routine turned into a ritual which became something I looked forward to every night and something I have dearly missed over the past 2 weeks. I would just like to say them with my dad one last time. “Who do I love?" You love me. "Who’s a good boy?" I am. "Who am I proud of?" You are proud of me. "And who do you love?" I love you dad. I will always love you.
I’m going to start with a story written by Thai’s mother, my grandmother, Susan:
"When Thai was thirteen years old I managed to get enough money together to buy three tickets to Hawaii. We had very few resources so we three, Thai, Jesse and Mom had most of our belongings - a stove, a small tent, our food and other necessities - in a very large backpack. We could not afford, nor did we really want to stay in a hotel. During our short stay on the Islands we decided together to hike a trail on the wet side of Kaui’i. It was a very beautiful trail running along the coastline with the mountains, green and lush, rising up the windward side. We were seeking and eventually found a beautiful waterfall several miles up the coast which splashed into a large pond. The trail ran up and down numerous small hills. I was carrying the large pack, and struggling under its load. Thai and Jesse were walking ahead of me. Suddenly, Thai who was only slightly taller than me appeared at my side. He reached over in his ever so gentle way, my Ferdinand the Bull, and took the backpack off my shoulders. He turned to me and said, “Mom I’ll carry the load now.” And, he did, he always did. When I heard other parents complain about their teenage boys, I could never understand their complaints because my Thai and my Jesse only ever “carried the load.”"
Dad has always carried the load for me. He came to all of my sports games he could, worked 12 hour shifts, helped me in my schoolwork, and taught me almost everything I know about the world, and these are only just the first things that come to mind. But I know that everything he taught me and gave me will give me the strength to carry the load myself.
Every night before my dad tucked me in to bed, he would ask me the same four questions. This nightly routine turned into a ritual which became something I looked forward to every night and something I have dearly missed over the past 2 weeks. I would just like to say them with my dad one last time. “Who do I love?" You love me. "Who’s a good boy?" I am. "Who am I proud of?" You are proud of me. "And who do you love?" I love you dad. I will always love you.
Remembrance for a beloved husband and partner
After I read my tribute at Thai's memorial service, I had many people say they couldn't believe that I could get up there in front of the 750 people who attended and do that. I didn't see how I couldn't. I put on what Thai would have called a "kick ass" dress and did my best to honor the deep love we shared for 22 years. There are so many facets to a relationship that long and that significant, but I kept going back in my mind to that magical time when you realize you may have found "the one" with all its attendant joys and uncertainties. So that's what I wrote about:
You all know Thai as a loving father, an outstanding physician, a dedicated partner, a faithful friend and a brilliant mind. To me, he was all that, but also something unique: my husband, my co-parent, my best friend, and most of all the love of my life. I can never capture everything he meant to me, but in this time, when he is always in my thoughts, I often find myself reaching back in time to remember the very beginning of the life journey that Thai and I shared when I was so crazy in love that just the thought of him or the mention of his name turned my stomach into a mass of twisting butterflies and I couldn’t eat. Bizarrely, my body had a similar reaction during the whole unbearable ordeal of losing Thai: I couldn’t eat and my stomach was a mess.
Now the first reaction was from great joy; the second from great sadness and grief, but the physical manifestation was surprisingly similar. Somehow it brought me back, way back, 22 years ago to the very beginning of our journey together. The first time I ever saw Thai is crystallized like a diamond in my mind. It was a beautiful day and he was sitting in the hot California sun in the UCLA law school courtyard with his legs sort of crossed and half up on the table. I’m sure any of you who have been a meeting with him know exactly what I’m talking about. We had a mutual friend and she had told me she thought we’d be perfect together. Now whether that was because she truly thought we were soul mates or merely because we were both Birkenstock wearing hippies from Berkeley, I don’t know. But the moment I saw him sitting there, it was like a bolt of energy went through me. He looked up at me with those brilliant green eyes, a slight razor stubble and gave me a lazy smile. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the corresponding stubble on his legs, not being a biker, but I was a goner nevertheless.
Two days later I was taking the Santa Monica bus home when Thai unexpectedly got on. I can still see him walking towards me with his floppy brown hair, his brilliant smile and those killer green eyes. It had been his birthday and someone had given him some Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee. It will surprise no one to know that by the end of the ride I knew all about the intricacies of cultivating this rare and expensive type of coffee. As he got off at his stop, he casually invited me over for a cup sometime. He later told me, he never thought I’d actually come. That was Friday. On Saturday, there I was, knock knock on his door. He wasn’t there and his roommate told me he had gone to climb Mt. Whitney with some friends and would be back on Sunday. Gorgeous, charming AND adventurous? Sunday I was back, knock knock, and this time he was there.
The rest, as they say, is history. I never (and kids this was before cell phones let you know where everyone was 24/7) ran into him just by accident on the bus even though we took the same bus for the following three years, so fate smiled on us that time. Now if you’ve ever heard this story from Thai, he tells it this way: "Kat picked me up on the bus and then just kept pursuing me relentlessly . . . " It was definitely unusual for me because I’m not an extrovert like Thai, but even in the beginning he had a way of pushing me outside my comfort zone. Whether we were taking a month long back pack trip through civil war torn Guatemela, taking the kids cave diving in Mexico, or he was convincing me to buy a boat sight unseen off e-bay, life with Thai was always an adventure.
It was also a life full of an enveloping love. When we started dating, I immediately became aware of how intensely and openly Thai loved his family. “Love you Jess, Love you Dad, Love you mom” ended every phone call. I knew right away that being the recipient of that kind of love would be a powerful and unforgettable experience. For the past 22 years it has been. Now tragically and for reasons that are far beyond my ability to make sense of the world, my sons and I have lost the physical presence of that love. But we will never ever lose the experience of being blessed by the strength of Thai’s love. Thai, I miss you so much, but the boys and I are strong and we will make you proud of us. We love you and you will live in our hearts forever.
You all know Thai as a loving father, an outstanding physician, a dedicated partner, a faithful friend and a brilliant mind. To me, he was all that, but also something unique: my husband, my co-parent, my best friend, and most of all the love of my life. I can never capture everything he meant to me, but in this time, when he is always in my thoughts, I often find myself reaching back in time to remember the very beginning of the life journey that Thai and I shared when I was so crazy in love that just the thought of him or the mention of his name turned my stomach into a mass of twisting butterflies and I couldn’t eat. Bizarrely, my body had a similar reaction during the whole unbearable ordeal of losing Thai: I couldn’t eat and my stomach was a mess.
Now the first reaction was from great joy; the second from great sadness and grief, but the physical manifestation was surprisingly similar. Somehow it brought me back, way back, 22 years ago to the very beginning of our journey together. The first time I ever saw Thai is crystallized like a diamond in my mind. It was a beautiful day and he was sitting in the hot California sun in the UCLA law school courtyard with his legs sort of crossed and half up on the table. I’m sure any of you who have been a meeting with him know exactly what I’m talking about. We had a mutual friend and she had told me she thought we’d be perfect together. Now whether that was because she truly thought we were soul mates or merely because we were both Birkenstock wearing hippies from Berkeley, I don’t know. But the moment I saw him sitting there, it was like a bolt of energy went through me. He looked up at me with those brilliant green eyes, a slight razor stubble and gave me a lazy smile. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the corresponding stubble on his legs, not being a biker, but I was a goner nevertheless.
Two days later I was taking the Santa Monica bus home when Thai unexpectedly got on. I can still see him walking towards me with his floppy brown hair, his brilliant smile and those killer green eyes. It had been his birthday and someone had given him some Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee. It will surprise no one to know that by the end of the ride I knew all about the intricacies of cultivating this rare and expensive type of coffee. As he got off at his stop, he casually invited me over for a cup sometime. He later told me, he never thought I’d actually come. That was Friday. On Saturday, there I was, knock knock on his door. He wasn’t there and his roommate told me he had gone to climb Mt. Whitney with some friends and would be back on Sunday. Gorgeous, charming AND adventurous? Sunday I was back, knock knock, and this time he was there.
The rest, as they say, is history. I never (and kids this was before cell phones let you know where everyone was 24/7) ran into him just by accident on the bus even though we took the same bus for the following three years, so fate smiled on us that time. Now if you’ve ever heard this story from Thai, he tells it this way: "Kat picked me up on the bus and then just kept pursuing me relentlessly . . . " It was definitely unusual for me because I’m not an extrovert like Thai, but even in the beginning he had a way of pushing me outside my comfort zone. Whether we were taking a month long back pack trip through civil war torn Guatemela, taking the kids cave diving in Mexico, or he was convincing me to buy a boat sight unseen off e-bay, life with Thai was always an adventure.
It was also a life full of an enveloping love. When we started dating, I immediately became aware of how intensely and openly Thai loved his family. “Love you Jess, Love you Dad, Love you mom” ended every phone call. I knew right away that being the recipient of that kind of love would be a powerful and unforgettable experience. For the past 22 years it has been. Now tragically and for reasons that are far beyond my ability to make sense of the world, my sons and I have lost the physical presence of that love. But we will never ever lose the experience of being blessed by the strength of Thai’s love. Thai, I miss you so much, but the boys and I are strong and we will make you proud of us. We love you and you will live in our hearts forever.
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