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MY SUMMER

PLACE

MAGAZINE OF THE TUFTS UNIVERSITY MEDICAL AND SACKLER ALUMNI ASSOCIATIONS VOL. 67 NO. 3 SUMMER 2008

MEDICINE

What keeps our people going back

PHOTO: JOHN SOARES

VITAL S IGNS

IF YOU EVER PAY A VISIT TO BAYSTATE MEDICAL CENTER, WHETHER

in emotional or physical pain, James Watts Jr. is the guy you want to see approaching you. His title there is “leadconcierge,” and his role is to greet distraught patients at thehospital’s front door, help them sort out where they’re goingand point them on their way. “I’m just a high-class Wal-Martguy,” Watts laughs easily, “making sure people are comingand going in a happy fashion.”

He’s plainly a champ at it. This spring, in May, Watts wona Howdy Award for Hospitality Excellence from the GreaterSpringfield (Mass.) Convention and Visitors Bureau after being named a finalist three times in previous years. In June,he won a second award from the Association for CommunityLiving for the care he took in giving a young man with a developmental disability a personal tour of the hospital on the day he was admitted for a scheduled procedure, easingthe young man’s anxiety at a time of natural apprehension.

Watts, who’s been a Baystate greeter for a decade now,has a simple approach: “I’m always putting the shoe on the other foot and thinking, how would I feel in that circum-stance?” he suggests. “Some people just need a warm hello.They may have come to hear bad news, or to see a familymember in a situation they really don’t want to see them in. I try to show people dignity, respect and just a little kind-ness.” Hospitals are scary enough places in the best of

times. Now imagine you are lost in a hospital and speak no English, as is the case with many new immi-

grants. “That’s where I’ll go over and say hello,and pretty soon we’re both laughing,”

says Watts.

A warm hello

10

s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 t u f t s m e d i c i n e 1

D E P A R T M E N T S

2 Letters

3 From the Dean

4 Pulse I A scan of people & events

34 On Campus

42 University News

44 Beyond Boundaries

47 Alumni Update

52 Essay

COVER PHOTO: Harris Berman on Lake Winnisquam, by Webb Chappell

C O V E R S T O R Y

26 My summer placeby Bruce Morgan

In which we visit Tufts people at sites around New England to see whatkeeps them going back.

C O N T E N T SS U M M E R 2 0 0 8 I V O L U M E 6 7 , N O . 3

F E A T U R E S

8 Ready to exhaleA graduate joins an elite practice.

10 Climbing Denaliby Kate Anderson, ’10

Snow, wind, ice and exhilaration.

16 Out of sightby Helene Ragovin

Fighting vision loss through diet.

21 Pieces of the heartby Claire Vail

The mystery of illness began in her family,and spread outward from there.

August 2008

Dear Reader,

We’ve been having some beautiful weather around here the past few

weeks: dry, clear, sunny, with a hint of autumn smoke in the air. After

the endless round of drizzle and thunderstorms we had in June and

July, it’s been nice to get outside and putter a bit at the end of the day,

checking on the flowers in the side yard and mentally going through

the chores to be taken care of before the bang of winter hits.

That railing on the porch could use some paint. And I should proba-

bly fix the rusty hinge on that door before the thing falls off altogether.

Whether you’re in the middle of building a practice or blissfully

retired, I am sure that you’re busy with the demands of your own life

as well. I have to say I’ve missed hearing from you lately. Drop me a line

and let me know how things are going for you, mention what you like

or don’t like about the magazine, and tell me what sorts of things you’d

like to see in months to come.

Together, we can get everything nailed down right.

bruce morganeditor

LETTERS

volume 67, no. 3 summer 2008

Medical EditorDr. John K. Erban, ’81

EditorBruce Morgan

Editorial DirectorKaren Bailey

Design DirectorMargot Grisar

DesignerBetsy Hayes

University PhotographerMelody Ko

Contributing WritersJulie Flaherty, Marjorie Howard,

Lauren Katims, Kaitlin Melanson, JaquelineMitchell, Helene Ragovin, Mark Sullivan

Contributing EditorLeslie Macmillan

Alumni Association

PresidentDr. David Wong, ’87

Vice PresidentDr. David S. Rosenthal, ’63

Medical School DeanDr. Michael Rosenblatt

Executive CouncilJoseph Abate, ’62, Carole E. Allen, ’71,Mark Aranson, ’78, Fred G. Arrigg, ’47,

Paul G. Arrigg, ’82, Laurence S. Bailen, ’93,Henry H. Banks, ’45, Richard A. Binder, ’64,

Kenneth E. Blotner, ’64, Dr. Betsy Busch, ’75,Alphonse F. Calvanese, ’78, Fred G. Arrigg, ’47,Stephen J. Camer, ’65, Gena Ruth Carter, ’87,Do Wing Chan, ’01, Barbara A. Chase, ’73,

Bartley C. Cilento, Jr., ’87, Eric R. Cohen, ’86,Francis A. D’Ambrosio, ’45, Paul D. D’Ambrosio, ’88,

Giacomo A. DeLaria, ’68, Gerard Desforges, ’45,Jane M. Desforges, ’45, Ronald W. Dunlap, ’73,

Scott K. Epstein, ’84, John K. Erban, ’81,David A. Fisher, ’63, Charles Glassman,

’73, Brian M. Golden, ’65, Sherwood L. Gorbach,’62, Edward T. Gordon, ’47, Michael A. Gordon, ’76,

Donna B. Harkness, ’79, Thomas R. Hedges, ’75,Frederic F. Little, ’93, Kathleen M. Marc, ’80,

Peter D. Martelly, ’83, Tejas S. Mehta, ’92,Bruce Pastor, ’68, Richard A. Reines, ’76,

Karen Reuter, ’74, Barbara A. Rockett, ’57,Laura K. Snydman, ’04, Paul J. Sorgi, ’81,Susan J. Stein, ’85, Elliott W. Strong, ’52,

Gerard A. Sweeney, ’67, James A. York, ’92

Tufts Medicine is published three times a year bythe Tufts University School of Medicine, Tufts

Medical Alumni Association and Tufts UniversityOffice of Publications. Send correspondence to

Bruce Morgan, Editor, Tufts Medicine,136 Harrison Avenue, Boston, MA 02111 or

e-mail [email protected]. The medicalschool’s website is www.tufts.edu/med.

Printed on recycled paper.

MEDICINE

Bruce Morgan Editor, Tufts Medicine Tufts University Office of Publications 136 Harrison Ave.Boston, MA 02111

TALK TO US Tufts Medicine welcomes letters, concerns and suggestions from all its readers. Address yourcorrespondence, which may be edited for space, toBruce Morgan, Editor, TuftsMedicine, Tufts University, Office of Publications,136 Harrison Ave., Boston, MA02111. You can also fax us at 617.636.4075 or [email protected]

2 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8


FROM THE DEA N

The good news is that your medicalschool has benefited from a recent move atthe national level. In May, Tufts Universitywas awarded $20 million in funding overfive years from the National Institutes ofHealth for clinical and translational research,with the goal of streamlining the process ofturning laboratory research discoveries intoreal-world treatments for patients (see story,p. 34) and improving training in clinicalresearch methodology.

This was a highly selective process. Beingchosen represents a feather in our cap, andplaces us squarely in the vanguard of aca-demic institutions. The number of recipi-ents of the Clinical and Translational ScienceAward (CTSA) will be limited to some 60academic medicine organizations around thecountry. The governing idea behind theCTSA is pragmatic: to transform clinicalresearch, broaden its base across disciplinesand enhance education and training.

Historically, of course, Tufts has earnedits place in the complicated process of bring-ing laboratory advances to patients. Clinicalresearch is a long-recognized strength ofours. In recent years, Tufts University Schoolof Medicine has ranked as high as sixth inthe nation for the impact of its clinicalresearch by Science Watch, which systemat-

ically sifts through indexed medical journalsto track research paper citations. The cultureof institutional collaboration desired by theNIH is also in evidence here—an approachwhose value is reinforced by our recentstrategic plan. In that sense, you might saywe were fortunate. We not only “talk thetalk, but walk the walk.”

Even so, the challenge of preparing theapplication was huge. (I’ve seen the com-pleted application, and it made a stack ofpaper about a foot high.) With Harry Selker,a cardiologist and professor of medicine, at thehelm, we began three years ago to formulateour application for the CTSA grant in aprocess that encompassed nearly every cornerof the university community, including sevenof Tufts’ eight schools and an equal number ofTufts-affiliated teaching hospitals.

Nearly a dozen community health cen-ters, two major health insurers and five dif-ferent corporate partners also joined with usin the effort to create an entirely new enter-prise: the Tufts Clinical and TranslationalScience Institute.

Everyone at the table had to pitch in andthink cooperatively about what we weretrying to achieve. There could be no artificialbarriers standing in the way. The under-standing on every side had to be straight-

forward and deeply committed to our com-mon goal. In a palpable way, everyoneinvolved had to shed individual egos tobuild a new and richer kind of connection.

Tufts Medical Center, in particular, wasfabulous in the way it understood andaccepted the new governance and fundingprocess that the new Tufts institute required.The NIH grant will be university-based,meaning that all the money will go first tothe university and then be distributed backto Tufts’ constituent parts.

Being as widely spread out as we are, andas historically independent as we have been,questions of how to cooperate effectivelyare inescapable. How do we open up theprocess and make it work? How, for example,do we share data effectively across our dif-fering systems, which stretch from Boston toSpringfield, Mass., to southern Maine, withmany points in between? A bit of a culturalshift will be required of us all.

The good news is that lots of good willhas already been expressed among ourmembers. People are genuinely eager to getstarted on the business of determining howto take medical discoveries and move themsafely and swiftly to where they are neededmost, into the lives of patients.

All this enhanced collaboration can onlytake us to a better place. It’s the nature ofresearch that a scientist may hit a wall and getstuck from time to time. Now that person hasthe option of picking up the phone and dis-cussing the problem with someone in anunrelated area by asking, “Can you help mefigure out a path to see if this is feasible?” Iguarantee the sparks will fly.

i am sure that i am not the only physician in boston who has heard a tone

of frustration in the voices of patients about the slowness with which new reme-

dies reach them and become available to treat their illnesses. As doctors, we can

only sympathize with the patient’s perspective. Getting treatments and cures out

of the laboratory and into patient hands is cumbersome. The speed of medical

research and translation has always been slower than we would like it to be, given

the degree to which the process depends on our being precise with scientific

methods, and vigilant about patient safety.

The speed of translation

michael rosenblatt, m.d.

4 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 PHOTOS: COURTESY OF LLOYD WILLIAMS

Mercy in Africalloyd williams, who graduated this spring with acombined M.D. and Ph.D. in neuroscience, has been travelingto central Zambia for the past seven years and volunteering histime to support Macha Mission Hospital there through aseries of benefit bike rides and his own unflagging devotion toimproving the region’s health.

Early on, he secured donations of desperately neededmedical supplies from Boston-area hospitals as well asfrom global pharmaceutical firms. Most recently, his non-profit organization, Help Mercy International, has built anHIV clinic from scratch, created a modest dental clinic withdonated chairs and equipment from Tufts Dental School—including a site visit by faculty member Dr. David Paul in2005—and brought Tufts-trained nutritionists to the site toeducate residents about good eating habits.

PULSE A SCAN OF PEOPLE & EVENTS

Now you can help support the important work of

the Sharewood Project, the student-run health clinic

in Malden, Mass., that provides free health care to

underserved Boston-area residents, through your

routine purchases on amazon.com

To gain the benefit, simply go first to

www.sharewood.info and click on the amazon.com

link there. Sharewood will then automatically

receive between 6 and 10 percent of the dollar

value of your purchase at no cost to you.

Lately, Sharewood has garnered as much as

$5,000 a month from Amazon, enabling the clinic

to expand its outreach into the community through

enhanced publicity.

ON THE BOOKS

Clockwise from top left: Mercy, the original burn atient whom Williams treated seven years ago; the HIV clinic under construction; Williams performing eye surgery at Macha Mission Hospital.

ILLUSTRATION: SCOTT MENCHIN; COURTESY PHOTO s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 t u f t s m e d i c i n e 5

SEND ME FLOWERS

Lee Eric Rubin andKate Doughty, both ’04

A RECENT ITEM IN THE BOSTON GLOBE COMPLAINING

about misleading prescription drug ads

led Doug Brugge, associate professor of

public health and family medicine, to air

a personal peeve. “As an allergy sufferer

and someone with a Ph.D. in biology,

I have long complained about the use of

flowers in ads for allergy medications,” he

wrote the editors.

“In fact, flowers, because they are primarily

pollinated by insects and birds, produce large sticky pollen

grains that rarely get airborne. Very few people ever get these

pollens into their respiratory system or experience any symptoms

because of exposure to flowers. Almost all pollen allergy is

attributable to wind-pollinated plants that do not have flowers,

such as trees, grasses and ragweed.”

Legislation 101former classmates lee eric rubin, ’04,

and Kate Doughty, ’04, attended the annualNational Orthopedic Leadership Confer-ence in Washington, D.C., this spring asrepresentatives of the Connecticut Ortho-pedic Society. The two surgeons-in-trainingare chief orthopedic residents at Yale–NewHaven Medical Center in New Haven andthe University of Connecticut Program inFarmington, respectively.

With some 200 orthopedic surgeonsfrom across the country, Rubin andDoughty helped draft a legislative proposalto address the prevalence of musculoskele-tal diseases and conditions in the U.S.,

which affect as many as one in four Amer-icans and count as the nation’s greatest sin-gle cause of lost work days.

“It was an amazing experience to actuallyparticipate in the introduction of a proposalthat might become a bill, and have the poten-tial to directly influence the future of mus-culoskeletal care in the United States,” saidRubin. His first-time-ever partner in lobbyingagreed. “It seems that the best way to fix abroken health-care system is for those of uswho provide health care to educate thosewho make the laws,” Doughty noted. “Wephysicians need to participate in the peskywork of citizenship.”

FIVE PROMISES TO KIDS

Likening the need for the prevention ofchild abuse to the public health menaceposed by cigarettes decades ago, EdwardBailey, associate professor of pediatrics,told a crowd at the 10th annual ChildAbuse Prevention Conference, “We’vechanged the paradigm on smoking. Isn’t itwonderful?” The event was held at DanburyHospital in Danbury, Conn., in May.

Bailey said the U.S. still hasn’t focusedits energy and social will on child abuse,even though the total cost of neglected and abused children may amount to $100billion a year in medical expenses, lost productivity, incarceration costs and lives wasted by alcoholism, drug abuse and psychological damage. “I don’t know how it will take place, but we need another paradigm shift,” said Bailey.

He cited a national movement under wayto make five promises to children: the promise of a healthy start in life; of caringadults around them; of a safe place to live; a good school; and the opportunity to helpothers. “Surveys show that 21 percent ofthe children in the United States get none of these,” Bailey said.

6 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 PHOTO: JOEL HASKELL

his spring, richard salluzzo,

’78, was appointed chief execu-tive of Cape Cod Healthcare,the parent of Cape Cod Hospi-

tal in Hyannis, Mass., as well as FalmouthHospital and a visiting nurses’ association.Altogether, the system has some 4,000employees and treats about 130,000 patientsa year through its presence on the Cape.

Since 2004, Salluzzo had been presidentand CEO of Wellmont Health System, agroup of 14 hospitals in Tennessee, Virginiaand Kentucky, where he is credited withmoving the system into profitable statusand launching efforts to eliminate medicalerrors. The new CEO said he hopes toemploy some of the same techniques on theCape that helped him before, notably work-

ing on physician partnerships, focusing onsafety and service and employee develop-ment and satisfaction, and exercising fiscalresponsibility in a spirit of innovation.

“We are fortunate to have attracted anexecutive of Dr. Salluzzo’s caliber and expe-rience,” said Bob Birmingham, chair ofCape Cod Healthcare’s board of trustees.“He epitomizes the blend of proven oper-ating experience and executive vision we setas the benchmarks for this search.”

Salluzzo, whose daughter Jennifer is asecond-year student at Tufts Medical School,has joined the Cape’s largest employer at acritical moment, when, in response to recentheavy losses, the hospital chain has beenforced to reduce staffing and trim executivecompensation by 10 percent.

PULSE A SCAN OF PEOPLE & EVENTS

Richard Salluzzo, ’78

Rx for Cape hospitals

HAVING SHORTER-THAN-AVERAGE ARMS AND

legs may signal an increased risk of

developing memory problems late in life,

according to the results of a study led

by a Tufts scientist.

Researchers found that women with

the shortest arm spans were 50 percent

more likely to develop dementia and

Alzheimer’s disease than women with

longer arm spans. At the same time, the

longer a woman’s leg from floor to knee,

the lower her risk for dementia. In men,

only a shorter arm span was linked to

dementia, according to the study, which

was published in Neurology.

“Body measures such as knee height

and arm span are often used as biologi-

cal indicators of early-life deficits, such

as a lack of nutrients, said Tina Huang,

a scientist in the immunology lab at the

Jean Mayer USDA Human Nutrition

Research Center on Aging at Tufts.

Other studies have found a link between

limb length and dementia in populations

in Asia, and Huang wanted to see if the

trend would hold true in a U.S. popula-

tion as well.

The researchers studied 2,798

people for an average of five years and

took knee-height and arm-span measure-

ments. Most people in the study were

white, with an average age of 72. By

the end of the study, 480 had developed

dementia. “We found that shorter knee

heights and arm spans were associated

with an increase risk of dementia,”

Huang and her colleagues concluded.

ARMS, LEGS ANDMEMORY LOSS

Virginia Brady, ’11, and Benjamin Galen,

’10, recently shared the second-place prize in a national essay contest sponsored

by Harvard Medical School and the Division of Pharmacoepidemiology and

Pharmacoeconomics at Brigham and Women’s Hospital. For the contest, Galen

and Brady answered questions concerning the relationship between medical

students and prescription drug marketing. Each received a $750 award.

T

ESSAY AWARDS

RENDERINGS: TOP, DIMELLA SHAFFER, BOTTOM, RACHEL SHING s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 t u f t s m e d i c i n e 7

fter many months of carefulthought and planning, thewholesale transformation of thethe Sackler Center—coupled

with the creation of a Clinical Skills andSimulation Center around the corner at 35Kneeland—is now under way.

Slated for completion in spring 2009,the projects will transform medical educa-tion and the quality of life at the medicalschool. Melding state-of-the-art educationalfacilities and enhancements in student life,such as an expanded café and a new fitnesscenter, the renovation is funded by a $15million contribution from the Jaharis Fam-ily Foundation.

On July 10, fourth-year students wereable to take the Objective Structured Clin-ical Examinations for the first time on the

Boston campus in the newsimulation center. Previously,they had to travel to othermedical schools to take theexam. The 9,000-square-footfacility contains 12 patientexam rooms and three simu-lation rooms that are outfit-ted with video and audioequipment so faculty canobserve students interactingwith standardized patientsvia computer monitors. Thegrand opening of the centerwill take place in October.

For sketches of the com-pleted floors, and detailed schedules for com-pletion of the work, as well as a brief accountof the thinking behind each proposed

change, go to www.tufts.edu/med/news,select “Building Our Future,” and click on theslideshow under “Sackler Renovation.”

Bricks and mortar

A

The new simulation center

PHOTO: CATHERINE KARNOW

Robert Margolin, ’81


after completing medical school, robert margolin, ’81,

felt the golden pull of California, so that’s where he went todo his residency before signing on with a three-memberinternal medicine practice in San Francisco. Margolin set-tled into the region and his work, ultimately rising tobecome managing partner for the practice, responsiblefor 10 doctors, 14 staff members and the aggregate care ofsome 25,000 patients.

Margolin had his share of patients, and you can hear inhis soft-spoken, thoughtful voice just how good a doctor hewas to them. He worked through lunch, and he madehouse calls when necessary. Looking back, Margolindescribes his work as “always hectic and fulfilling” overall,especially when he was in his mid-30s and loaded withenergy. As he got older, the shine came off. “In the last fewyears, I still had great days, but felt depleted,” he reports.

Being in California made things worse. A sky-high cost ofliving and increasing overhead paired with stagnant reim-bursement rates for services add up to a “woeful plight” forBay Area doctors, says Margolin, a past president of the SanFrancisco Medical Society. “Primary care physicians aroundhere have trouble making a living. I’m pretty efficient, butthere’s not enough time in the day to make it work.” He citesa recent study that determined that if a primary care physi-cian has 2,500 patients, he or she needs 127 hours a week tocare for them properly.“And I had 3,400,” he points out.“Youdo the best you can, but you can’t do it well. I was stuck in ahigh-quantity, low-quality experience.”

His life outside the office suffered, too. Margolin and hiswife, classmate Katherine Chick Margolin, ’81, an internist,have three children, Ben, Emily and Jenny. Apart from thehours devoted to his practice, he taught and did volunteerwork. He was involved with his kids’ Little League games.He was chairman of the California Pacific Medical CenterDivision of Internal Medicine and a member of the board

of trustees of the California Medical Association (CMA).He was tapped out, and something had to give.

About this time, a company called MD2 approachedMargolin. Founded in 1996 in Seattle, MD2 was the coun-try’s first concierge medicine enterprise, whereby doctorsserve a small pool of patients who have paid handsomely forthe privilege of extraordinary care. Whether it’s called“concierge” or “boutique” or “retainer-based medicine,”it’s an elite approach, and Margolin’s first response was tosay no. But then he thought about it some more, reasoningthat this might enable him to practice medicine the way heused to, on saner, more attentive terms. He said yes.

Now he’s responsible for the health of 50 families who eachpay $25,000 a year. He stresses preventive medicine and,when needed, shepherds his clients through every stage of thehealth-care system, including visiting and advising them in thehospital. “Every day is very different,” says Margolin. “Peoplesay I look younger. I’m decompressed, but still busier than Ithought I’d be. We’re on call 24 hours a day, and I love whenpatients call. The flexibility is just delicious. My 17-year-old cansay, ‘Do you want to play tennis at 4:30?’ and I can do that.”Paradoxically, the change has also opened up more time forhim to pursue his advocacy work for physicians.

The personal transformation didn’t come withoutqualms. When asked if he hasn’t, in fact, abandoned thelarger struggle of medicine, Margolin sounds uneasy. “Yeah,I did,” he answers. “Medicine shouldn’t be a struggle. Thepolitics of this was something I had to resolve, but doctorsneed to take care of themselves, because no one else isdoing it for them. I love taking care of patients. I’ve donethis one way for 22 years and made 100,000 patient visits.Do I need to do another 100,000 to feel fulfilled?”

Finally, Margolin’s bedrock realization, the one that droveeverything else, was this: “The model is broken, and I’m notgoing to fix it by myself.” TM

Ready to Ex h a l eA year ago, this 52-year-old physician had reached a point of

diminishing returns in his professional life—and thena concierge practice made him an offer he couldn’t refuse

BY BRUCE MORGAN

CLIMBINGA student guides an ascent of the greatest peak in North AmericaSTORY AND PHOTOS BY KATE ANDERSON, A04, M10

The author’s first glimpseof Denali through

the plane’s windshield.

12 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 PHOTO ABOVE & OF ANDERSON AT RIGHT: ANDY BOND

June 26, Base Camp: 7,200 feet

into the Alaska Range is like falling down therabbit hole. Your entire sense of perspective isresized. Everything is bigger and steeper thanyou would have imagined possible. The gla-ciers start and end on opposite horizons,with crevasses big enough to swallow entirecity blocks. Hanging cliffs of ice perch precar-iously on rock faces. The whole place iswhite, cloud-high and endless. I’m in heaven.

Since I first started climbing at the age of16, I’ve dreamed of places such as this, andwhen I began mountain guiding four yearsago, “Denali” took on an appealing ring.Mountain climbing is like any true addic-tion—you start small, begin pushing thelimits, then end up, years later, wonderinghow it is exactly you arrived at where you arestanding.

My start was rock climbing in the SierraNevadas and New England. After college Imoved to Patagonia and worked as an ice-climbing guide. Then, three years ago, Ibegan guiding on Mt. Rainier, a 14,000-footvolcano in Washington State, the mostglaciated peak in the Lower 48. And nowhere I am, one of four guides on a Denaliexpedition. Our lead guide, Dave Hahn, hassummited Everest 10 times and led morethan 20 expeditions up Denali.

The plane, rigged with skis, touches downon the southeast fork of the Kahiltna Glacier. Ihop out and meet the others who flew in, twoat a time, before me. The Cessna buzzes offinto the distance, and we get to work setting upcamp. As a young guide and a guide new to theAlaska Range, I shovel tent platforms and haulgear with a rookie’s intensity. Every now andagain I stop digging and glance up at the wallsof rock and ice that rise up thousands of feetfrom all directions. The effect is dizzying.

Despite my amazement, I am trying toappear inured to it all, to not appear as

green as I am. I am waiting for the dust tosettle and for this cracked, snow-coveredmonolith of a mountain to become familiar.Some call it Mt. McKinley, but I find theolder, Native-American name more fitting.Denali. The Great One. Whatever you call it,it’s a 20,000-foot mountain in one of thecoldest regions of the world. It will take twoor more weeks to climb.

June 3: 11,000 feetIt’s been a week of slow traveling to gain amere 4,000 feet. A storm kept us at Base Campfor three days and then, once we did startmoving, our progress was slow and burdened.I am carrying a 60-pound pack with an addi-tional 40 pounds in the sled behind me. Theweight is more than we carry on Rainier, butnecessary for an expedition as long as this. Weneed food, fuel, rescue gear, radios, clothing,tents, shovels and countless other tools tomake the expedition safe and efficient.

The group travels tied together in ropeteams of four or five to protect against cre-

FLYING

Trekking across the Kahiltna Glacier with sleds in tow.

vasse falls. The risk of a major fall is minor,but most guides who have been around longenough have fallen in at least once. Eachguide leads a rope of climbers and together weinch up the Kahiltna, a train of 12 people andenough food and gear to last 22 days on themountain.

The temperature is invariably either toohot or too cold. At midday, the glacier’s reflec-tive surface amps up the sun’s intensity toscorching degrees. When the sun dropsbehind a ridge and we find ourselves in shade,temperatures can drop below zero in aninstant. I have more than once wonderedwhy it is exactly I am here, why I keep ventur-ing to places so difficult to get to, so utterlyinhospitable, places and situations most peo-ple categorically avoid. I can only think thatwhat they say about mountaineers holdstrue: I must have a high pain toleranceand a poor memory.

The 11,000-foot camp proves a tip-ping point for our trip. Two of ourclients reach their limit and decide toturn around and head back to BaseCamp with descending groups. Oneclient hadn’t anticipated such heavypacks and falters under the weight;another, an older man, had troublekeeping up with the group’s pace. Aclient on a neighboring trip developssudden-onset shortness of breath whilecarrying a load to a higher elevation. Hisguide, who also works as an emergencyroom nurse, suspects a spontaneouspneumothorax and makes the decision

to call in a helicopter. Our team, being higherup the mountain, serves to relay radio callsbetween their team and the National Park Ser-vice to coordinate the rescue.

Medical decisions at high altitude arenever easy and always conservative. The factthat advanced care is so far and resources solimited makes even the smaller decisions vitalto the health of the individual and the well-being of a group. As a guide, I draw upon theknowledge I’ve gained in medical school, butmore often, I find that as a medical student, Iam drawing upon all the things I’ve learned inthe mountains. How important it is to getdown, at eye level, look at your patient anddecide how bad it is. Can this person go on, ordo they need immediate attention? How thebigger picture is paramount. Up here, one

person may be injured, but if you ignore thegroup, 10 people could have hypothermia inno time at all. Regardless of the chaos thatsurrounds you, it is important to stay calm,move slowly and take it all a step at a time.

July 6: 14,000 feetIt has, at last, started to feel like instead ofwalking among the mountains, we are finallyon Denali. Fourteen Camp sits in GenetBasin—a glowing amphitheater of snow andhanging seracs, giant pillars of ice that peel offthe front end of glaciers. In peak season, thisis a small city of igloos and tents, protectedfrom potential storms by snow walls that risehead-high. Climbers gather here by the hun-dreds to stage their bids for the final push tohigh camp, then the summit.

A valiant Kate Andersonand the plane that carried her to the base of the mountain.

Tents at Base Camp,where storms held theclimbers three days.

When the weather opens up, there is usu-ally a window of good weather that lasts a fewdays, and there can be upward of 50 peopleon the route to the summit at the same time.The National Park Service maintains pit toi-lets, a ranger station and even a small clinic.The volunteer doc tells me they’ve treated 19cases of frostbite this year. Along with that,there are countless cases of gastrointestinalproblems, minor infections and altitude ill-ness that keep the med tent busy between themonths of May and July.

Our trip is at season’s end, and the rangersare pulling out to go home soon after wearrive. We are one of the last teams on themountain, and Fourteen Camp feels freshlyabandoned—an icy ghost town with snowwalls folding over like clocks in a Dali paint-ing. Some would view this as a distinct disad-vantage, but being on the mountain relativelyalone has its perks. Camp is quiet enoughthat, despite it being light out around theclock, a tired climber can usually manage tosleep through the night uninterrupted. We getmild snow showers most of our nights atFourteen, and I fall asleep to the sound ofsnow gently hitting the tent fly.

July 10: 17,000 feetAfter taking a few days at Fourteen to accli-matize, and spending a day to carry a load offood higher up the mountain, we make thepush up along the spine of the West Buttressto Seventeen. The ridge is nothing short ofspectacular. On one side the buttress dropsoff thousands of feet onto the Peters Glacier,and on the other plummets a similar distancestraight down to Genet Basin. Fourteen

Camp is nickel-sized. We all start tofeel the altitude more intensely. I fightthe urge to vomit, shelving my per-sonal woes to turn back every so oftenand take note of how the people on theback of my rope are climbing.

In places like this, it isn’t aboutwhat to do if someone falls; it’s abouthow to keep a fall from happening inthe first place. Many of the big tum-bles—or “rides,” as we call them—inmountaineering history started longbefore the climber’s boot slippedunexpectedly. The fall really beganwith a little dehydration, plus overex-ertion, plus a failure to accommodateto changing route and weather condi-tions, plus some unhappy trigger.

Mountaineering is on the surfacebrute slogging and underneath a deli-cate balancing act. You have to constantlymonitor and correct for body temperature,weather, the condition of your teammates,food and water intake, how much time hasgone by, the hazards that lurk overhead andunderfoot, and innumerable other seem-ingly minute factors. Being careless to anyone part can send a team on a dangerousdownward spiral.

July 11, At the Summit: 20,320 feetOn Mt. Rainier, we always tell our clients notto worry if they don’t sleep at all the nightbefore a summit attempt. It’s natural to benervous, to take every gust of wind againstthe tent fly as a foreboding omen, to replaystories in your head about people dying inthe mountains. We say that simply being

horizontal is enough rest, all they’ll need.Even as a guide, I seldom sleep before a

summit attempt. I find myself reviewing thespeech in my head to lull myself to sleep. Ieven used a version of it to calm myself downthe night before I took Step One of my Boardsthis past May. Sleep is optional. Millions ofpeople have climbed Denali/ taken the boards/performed surgery/ walked on the moonwithout having had a full night of sleep thenight before. It’s okay. You will be fine.

That sort of hardened mentality remindsme of a conversation I had with a neurosur-geon I shadowed during our first-year selec-tives. He had just walked out of a 12-hoursurgery, and I asked him how he took care ofbasic personal necessities during surgery: food,

14 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 PHOTO LEFT: ANDY BOND

Four guides led the way up.From left, Anderson, Andy Bond,

Dave Hahn and Seth Waterfall.


water, bathroom breaks. He just shruggedand said he didn’t. It was at that point that Ibegan thinking mountaineering might notbe such bad training for life as a doctorafter all.

We begin our summit attempt at nine inthe morning. The weather is balmy by Denalistandards—10 degrees Fahrenheit—andeveryone in our team wakes up strong. Theclimb begins as a thousand-foot traverse up asteep slope to Denali Pass. It’s a part of themountain fabled by many a mountaineeringepic. Countless teams have fallen down the icyslope in years past. Tales of broken femurs,concussions and helicopter evacuations arefresh in my mind when we start the climbthat morning. But once we are moving, I am

thinking of the task at hand, of the one-foot-in-front-of-the-other, of which protection touse and which to bypass in the interest ofmaking good time. My state of mind aban-dons irrational fear and expands to includethe group. For this traverse, I am the slow-moving creature that is this rope team offour climbers.

After we reach the pass, the route rises at agentler pitch and passes by features of rock I’veread about for years and tried to imaginecountless times before: the Archdeacon’sTower, the Football Field, Pig Hill. All of it isan exploration, and the preformed pictures inmy head are blown to bits. After seven longhours, we reach the summit. It’s a strangefeeling, after two weeks of moving up, to sud-

denly find that nothing higher lies before you.The group comes to a halt and stands

stunned. We speak in two-word sentences toeach other, both due to the lack of oxygen andto the complete incompetence of the Englishlanguage in the face of such a landscape. Wethrow our packs down, shake hands and flashbroad, stupid, possibly permanent smiles ateach other. We feel the exhaustion and theamazement of reaching a goal that, for solong, felt unattainable. We are at last atop theGreat One.

We take one last, long look, shoulder ourpacks, and begin our descent to the world. TM

After she graduates, the author plans to pursuea career in emergency and wilderness medicine.

Dave Hahn at the summit. “It’s a strange feeling,”

writes the author, “to suddenly find that nothing higher lies before you.”

Vision loss is an inevitable part of aging. What you eat could help forestall it.


Out ofsight

B Y H E L E N E R A G O V I N

I L L U S T R AT I O N B Y M A R I A R E N D O N

The signs of vision loss come on slowly and painlessly, in most cases. First, it’s hard to

see in a dimly lit restaurant. Then words on the page start to blur; colors seem less

intense. Eventually, even well-loved faces become shadowy and unfamiliar. It can be

frightening and isolating—and it happens more often than most people realize. ■

Almost all of us will deal with some form of eye disease as we age. Cataracts await the

vast majority, and while those can usually be remedied through surgery, other sight-

threatening conditions are still difficult, or impossible, to control. One in three people

over the age of 75, for example, develops age-related macular degeneration (AMD),

which has no cure and can lead to blindness. ■ For the 76 million baby boomers, in par-

ticular, it’s an eye-opening realization—the generation that has relied on contact

lenses and Lasik to stave off wearing glasses will find itself facing far more serious eye

issues. Not to mention the potential strain on the health-care system, and the associated

costs. ■ “Some estimate that by 2020, that magic ‘perfect-vision’ year, macular degen-

eration will be epidemic, because people are living so much longer and developing the

disease,” says Johanna M. Seddon, M.D., director of the Ophthalmic Epidemiology and

Genetics Service at the New England Eye Center at Tufts Medical Center and a profes-

sor at Tufts School of Medicine.

Oone way to tame the threat may be through what we

eat. Scientists at the Jean Mayer USDA Human NutritionResearch Center on Aging (HNRCA) at Tufts and elsewherehave been conducting work on the connection between dietand eye diseases. Specifically, they’ve been looking at AMDand cataracts, the two eye conditions that affect the largestnumber of people in the United States. While researchersstress that diet alone is not a cure, there is promise that somerelatively simple dietary changes could help forestall some ofthe worst aspects of these diseases.

“If we could delay the onset of AMD and cataracts for 10years, we could eliminate 50 percent of the medical prob-lems” associated with them, says Allen Taylor, Ph.D., head ofthe Laboratory for Nutrition and Vision at the HNRCA anda professor at the Gerald J. and Dorothy R. Friedman Schoolof Nutrition Science and Policy. Taylor’s recent work haslooked at the connection between the consumption of dietshigh in simple sugars and the development of AMD andcataracts.

Even for the elderly and those already afflicted with eyedisease, “our data is telling us that people can still gain someadvantage by modifying their diet even fairly late in life,” Tay-lor says. “But I certainly would be advising my children, andmy children’s children, to begin a prudent diet.”

KEY NUTRIENTSBlindness and low vision (partial vision loss that cannot becorrected) affect 3.3 million Americans age 40 and over, orone in 28, and are projected to affect 5.5 million by the year2020, according to the National Eye Institute (NEI).AMD is the major cause of blindness among whiteAmericans, while glaucoma and cataracts are theleading causes among African Americans and His-panics, with genetics and health-care disparitiesaccounting for the differences. (No data is avail-able on prevalence of eye disease for Asian Amer-icans or American Indians.)

These diseases strike different parts of the eye.Cataracts are a clouding of the lens. In mostcases, the damaged lens can be surgicallyremoved and replaced with an artificial lens.AMD affects the macula, the area at the back ofthe eye that’s responsible for central vision.Glaucoma, an umbrella term for a family of dis-eases that destroy cells in the optic nerve, erodesperipheral vision. Neither AMD nor glaucoma iscurable; vision lost to either cannot be restoredcompletely.

Of these conditions, researchers have beenmost successful in establishing nutritional tiesto AMD. A major NEI project, the Age-RelatedEye Disease Study (AREDS), completed in 2001,found that high levels of antioxidants—vitaminsC and E and beta-carotene—along with zinc andcopper, significantly reduced the risk of advancedAMD and its associated vision loss in at-riskindividuals. Other research has shown that two

micronutrients in the carotenoid family, lutein and zeaxan-thin, may be particularly useful in protecting the macula.

“When we think about lutein and zeaxanthin, and AMD,it’s one of the most compelling nutrition-disease relation-ships there is,” says Elizabeth Johnson, Ph.D., an assistant pro-fessor at the Friedman School and a scientist at the HNRCA.

Lutein and zeaxanthin are the yellow pigments found inleafy green vegetables—in greens that have wilted and losttheir emerald sheen, the yellow left behind is the lutein andzeaxanthin. Another good source is egg yolk; while eggsdon’t contain as much lutein and zeaxanthin as green veg-etables, what is there is extremely “bioavailable,” or easy forthe body to extract and use.

Zeaxanthin is also found in corn. (Mexican Americans,whose traditional diet is often based on corn tortillas andother cornmeal products, tend to have high levels of zeax-anthin, for example.) The Asian berry known as goji, fructuslycii or wolfberry contains extraordinarily high levels ofzeaxanthin and has been used for centuries to promote eyehealth. Carrots, the food usually touted as being “good foryour eyes,” contain almost no lutein and zeaxanthin, althoughthey are rich in beta-carotene, which the body converts tovitamin A, a crucial nutrient for vision.

A second NEI study, known as AREDS2, is under way; inaddition to the antioxidants examined in the first AREDS,lutein, zeaxanthin and an omega-3 fatty acid have beenadded to the mix.

Together, lutein and zeaxanthin make up the macula pig-ment. Scientists believe the macula pigment acts as a sort of


I’ll never look at a plate of spinach the same way again.Spinach and other leafy greens are the main dietary

source of lutein, a micronutrient that has been shown tohelp protect eyes against age-related macular degenera-tion (AMD), a sight-threatening disease that afflicts manyolder adults.

“By around age 70, one in six people has some degreeof it, and by 80 years, one in three,” Elizabeth Johnson,Ph.D., a researcher at the Jean Mayer USDA HumanNutrition Research Center on Aging at Tufts (HNRCA), tells me. “Yikes,” I think, doing some quick arithmetic. Can I consume enough green vegetables over the next 20 to 30 years to remedy a lifetime of lutein neglect?

We head upstairs to the 11th floor of the HNRCA indowntown Boston, where the densitometer awaits. A blackmetal box with an eye cup protruding from the side, the den-sitometer is able to measure pigment in the macula, thepart of the retina responsible for central vision. The macu-

lar pigment is made up of lutein and its companion nutri-ent, zeaxanthin, both members of the carotenoid

SPINACH QUEST

shock absorber—or, in this case, a light absorber—protectingthe eye against oxidation and light damage. The denser themacula pigment, the more protection available.

POPEYE WAS RIGHTSeddon recommends her patients eat a diet rich in lutein andzeaxanthin. In 1994, she published the first systematic evalu-ation of the dietary content of lutein and zeaxanthin in foodand how it related to AMD. “Those results indicated a pro-found effect, and subsequent studies have shown the samething,” she says.

Lutein outpaces zeaxanthin in the American food supplyby about 5 to 1, so it is the more often discussed member ofthe pair, Johnson said. The recommended daily intake forboth is 6 mg, but most Americans don’t get nearly thatmuch. The most plentiful common source of lutein isspinach—a scant half-cup raw serving is enough to meet thedaily recommendation.

“And with lutein, it’s not a case of ‘more is better,’ ” Johnsonsays. “If you’re taking mega-supplements, you’re just wast-ing your money.”

In most cases, the experts say, it’s better toeat lutein-rich foods, which contain othernutrients and fiber, rather than resort tosupplements. The most noteworthyexceptions are heart patients whoneed blood-thinning medicationssuch as warfarin and are advised toavoid spinach and greens because

of possible food-drug interactions, or those prone to kidneydisease, because the oxalates in greens may contribute to for-mation of kidney stones. Johnson advises those looking for an“eye-health” vitamin to check for a lutein content of close to 6mg per dose; some products contain only minute quantities.

Because of the tough cellular walls of spinach and othergreens, they should be cooked a little to get the most nutri-tional benefit. And, Johnson says, greens should be consumedalong with a small amount of a healthful fat to allow absorp-tion of the lutein.

Omega-3 fatty acids may be particularly beneficial. A studyby Johnson published in the May issue of the American Jour-nal of Clinical Nutrition suggests that DHA, an omega-3 fattyacid, enhances the amount of lutein that can be taken up bythe retina.

In fact, dietary fats may have their own effects on eyehealth. Earlier work by Seddon found that diets high inomega-3 fatty acids were linked to macular health. She alsowarns that saturated fats and trans fats can increase risk for

AMD. “It’s not just about total fat; it’s about the kind offat you eat,” Seddon says.

A good source for the helpful omega-3s isfatty fish.“Eat a couple of servings of fish

per week,” Seddon advises.“The omega-3s might be helpful for AMD and

other diseases as well.” Salmon, her-ring, sardines, mackerel, lake troutand albacore tuna are all high inomega-3s.

family. Of the hundreds ofcarotenoids in nature, and of about 30in the body, only lutein and zeaxanthinare able to lodge directly in the macula.There, this yellow pigment absorbs light, pro-tecting the macula from oxidative and light damage.

The process is painless. I look into the machine andwatch a flickering, milky blue dot, turning knobs until the flick-ering ceases. I repeat the process several times over a 15-minute period. As I do this, the machine is calculating theamount of light being absorbed by my macular pigment, andthus how much lutein I have in my eye.

My level is “average.” But I resolve to do better. Can I, inthe course of a month (the amount of time I have left toreport this article), boost my pigment by eating more lutein-rich foods?

The best sources of lutein are leafy greens—primarilyspinach, but also its cousins, chard, kale, beet greens, etc.Lutein is also present in other green vegetables, and in eggyolks. (Goodbye Egg Beaters; hello omelets!) Johnson alsoinforms me that the best way to absorb the lutein in greens isto eat them cooked, with a small amount of “good” fat. (“Not

a glob!” she warns.) In otherwords, I don’t need to choke down

spinach salads with non-fat dressing. For the next four weeks, my diet takes on

a Forrest Gumpian quality. I eat spinach pie,spinach bake, spinach squares, spinach quiche,

spinach sauté, spinach soufflé. I branch out into chard(yummy with white beans), soups with escarole and lots of other greenvegetables that contain lesser, but still decent, levels of lutein. I bringspinach and pasta to the office potluck. I show Johnson a new frozenvegetable combination from Green Giant, called “Vision Health,” con-taining zucchini, green beans and carrots. “I don’t know if this veg-etable selection is the best” for getting lutein, says Johnson, whom Iam beginning to think of as the Lutein Queen. “But I’d rather someoneeat this than supplements.” I even buy a bag of beet greens, but can’tquite figure out what to do with them.

Then it’s time for my re-test. On the elevator ride up to revisit thedensitometer, Johnson reassures me that it takes some peoplemonths to increase their pigment levels, and I’ve only been at it forfour weeks. But… yes! I’m up about 40 percent, Johnson says.

Anybody want a bag of beet greens?—Helene Ragovin


THE SUGAR TRAPIn most young people, the center of the eye’s lens is crystal clear.Over a lifetime, however, the lens slowly tints, turning yellow,then amber, then brown. And often, cloudy, opaque spots—cataracts—develop.

For Allen Taylor, this process evoked the image of a slicedapple, turning brown as it sits on a table. Based on his trainingin biochemistry, he believed the same principle was responsi-ble for both phenomena.

“It all has to do with oxidation—specifically, the oxidationof carbohydrates,” Taylor says. In work that has opened a newdirection for vision research, Taylor and his colleagues exam-ined the relationship between intake of foods that are high onthe glycemic index (GI),—meaning foods that are rapidlyconverted to glucose in the body—and the development ofAMD and cataracts.

“Simple-sugar intake sets up the body for damage when

sugar is oxidized,” Taylor says, adding that the American dietis now 50 percent higher in simple sugars than it was 30 yearsago. The effects are being seen in rising obesity rates. Anotherprobable result, Taylor says, is the prevalence of cataracts.

“If you live long enough, you’ll get a cataract,” he says.While a damaged lens can be replaced, “for people who arefrail and elderly, the last thing they need is another proce-dure, or to have their abilities compromised. And there is ahuge cost: cataract surgery is the biggest line-item in theMedicare budget.”

Taylor’s lab looked at high-glycemic index diets in relationto AMD and cataracts, using data from AREDS and otherlong-term studies. The results showed that those who con-sumed diets high in simple sugars, as compared to complexcarbohydrates, had a higher risk of developing cataracts andAMD. They also developed them at a younger age.

“And more than that,” Taylor says, “in people with lower-GIdiets, the disease progressed slower. So you’re protected in

two ways—delayed progress and delayed risk.”Accord-ing to the study, if patients with early stage AMD

switched to a low-GI diet, 7.8 percent of advancedcases could be avoided over the next five years.

Taylor is not talking about drastic dietarychanges. For people who eat white bread, forexample, “by only changing five slices of breadfrom white to whole-wheat, that would change theGI enough to get into a healthier range,” he says.“That shows just how subtle, how doable, howachievable this type of dietary management is.”

A FAMILIAR LISTDoctors and researchers stress there are manyother factors besides diet that affect the devel-opment and progression of AMD.

“Smoking is a very strong risk factor, strongerthan any other, except for genetics,” Seddonsays. That includes second-hand smoke.

Age and gender (more women are affectedthan men) are also risk factors, as are BodyMass Index and waist-to-hip ratio (“apples” areat higher risk than “pears”). High blood pressureand cholesterol levels may play a part as well.

Sound familiar? It should—those are many ofthe same risk factors for cardiovascular disease.

“If you look up close, on a microvascularlevel, what you see in the eye is what you see inthe heart,” Johnson says. “The nice thing aboutpreventive measures for AMD is that they areconsistent with everything we know about pre-venting heart disease and cancer: high con-sumption of fruits and vegetables, low-fat,normal body weight, exercise. What’s good isthat a lot of modifications can be done.” TM

Helene Ragovin is a senior writer in Tufts’Office of Publications. She can be reached [email protected].

20 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 BOTTOM PHOTO: ALONSO NICHOLS

Dr. Johanna Seddon (top) and Elizabeth Johnson, Ph.D., are both concerned about the eye health of the aging American population.

The mystery began in her family, and spread outward from there.

Why were so many people sick all the time? A Tufts student ventures south to investigate

nutrition and health in an African-American community BY CLAIRE VAIL PHOTOS BY MELODY KO

Latrice Goosby Landryin Mississippi.

it’s a few minutes past nine on a

Monday morning in July, and alreadydowntown Jackson, Miss., is broiling.Whether it’s her natural cheerfulness ora refusal to dwell on problems she can’tsolve, Latrice Goosby Landry, A02, N04,

N09, M12, doesn’t seem to mind theheat, though she does wrinkle her nose at thesmell of tar patches baking in the sun. She’sheaded for the Medical Mall, an unassumingstrip of health-care clinics and treatment cen-ters that serve many of Jackson’s underprivi-leged, mostly black residents.

Landry is used to the cruel southern sum-mers, having spent the last four years shuttlingback and forth from Massachusetts to Missis-sippi, where she has played a role in two majormedical studies. Now, with a nearly completedPh.D. in nutritional epidemiology from theFriedman School, the first year of Tufts MedicalSchool under her belt and thesis research con-ducted under the auspices of a groundbreakingstudy, she is getting closer to achieving herlong-nurtured vision for a sea change in thepublic health of the black community.

In less than three hours, the petite, deter-mined 26-year-old will have to explain and

defend her latest research findings to the direc-tors of the Jackson Heart Study, the largest,single-site investigation of cardiovascular dis-ease in African Americans. Though she was upuntil 3 a.m. reviewing her presentation just tobe on the safe side, Landry isn’t nervous. In away, she has spent her whole life thinkingabout her hypothesis.

Her many academic degrees are part of acarefully considered plan to acquire the sci-entific knowledge and methods she will needto unravel a mystery that has bothered hersince childhood: why so many African Amer-icans, including many in her own family, areespecially prone to high blood pressure, dia-betes and other potentially debilitating ill-nesses. Even more to the point, Landry wants

to know what can be done about it.“Growing up, I didn’t understand why

everyone around me was sick all the time—notin a deathly ill kind of way, but with low-levelchronic illnesses that they were just copingwith,”she says.“When I became a graduate stu-dent, I realized there wasn’t enough data onAfrican Americans and health disparities. Ithought if the data isn’t there, someone needsto start collecting it. Why not me?”

FOOD AS MEDICINEThe mystery began with her maternal grand-mother. As a child in Maryland, Landry puz-zled over why her mother’s mother wasn’tpart of her life. In fact, her grandmother haddied of a brain aneurysm at age 43, leavingLandry’s mother to raise her two youngest sib-lings. When Landry asked about other more-distant relatives, the answer was often, “Oh,well, they died of a heart attack,” or “Theypassed at a young age.”

Of the family members who did surroundher, many suffered from persistent, vaguehealth problems. Nearly all the women hadchronic hypertension. Her mother, sister, auntsand uncles complained of back pain, lingering

coughs and fatigue—discomforts they tendedto regard as the inevitable price of workinghard and getting older. People saw doctorswhen they could, but the broad medical advicethey got—“Don’t eat salt,” or “Avoid stress”—was often impractical.

“They accepted these problems as thoughthey were unavoidable,” Landry says. “So Idid, too. I just figured when I grow up, I’llprobably have the same thing.”

Though she says she didn’t necessarily makea connection between her family’s health prob-lems and what they ate, Landry was attractedto models of behavior and found one in theUSDA’s food pyramid. Throughout her ado-lescence, she used it to supervise family meal-times, banishing cake and cookies from the

dinner table. Her mother and father coined ahalf-joking nickname for her: the Food Police.

In her senior year as an undergraduate atTufts, she enrolled in a class on primary care atthe Friedman School of Nutrition Scienceand Policy that was designed for nutritionstudents who handle international crisis workin refugee camps and require the basic clinicalknowledge to deal with famine, HIV andother issues. The class hooked her on theconcept of using nutrition to prevent medicalproblems, and in 2002 she enrolled in themaster’s program in food policy and appliednutrition at the Friedman School, specializingin international and domestic nutritionalintervention.

“Specifically, I was interested in why myfamily had a history of so much hyperten-sion, and what might have caused all theirhealth problems, including my family’s his-tory of pre-term births. I knew I had tobecome a doctor to understand the medicine,but I also wanted to continue with research,”says Landry.

She sought counsel from Dr. Irwin Rosen-berg, then dean of the Friedman School.Though Tufts offered no formal program that

coupled a Ph.D. in nutrition with anM.D., he encouraged her to see if itcould be done. Landry convinceddeans at Tufts’ medical and nutritionschools that if anyone could achievesuch an ambitious goal, she could.

Katherine Tucker, Landry’s nutri-tion thesis advisor and a senior scien-tist at the Jean Mayer USDA HumanNutrition Research Center on Aging,saw that Landry’s talents extendedbeyond laboratory research. She intro-

duced her to the Jackson Heart Study.“Latriceis especially good at getting people to worktogether in challenging environments andremain productive,” says Tucker. “She’s anexcellent ambassador for Tufts.”

A LANDMARK STUDYStatistics underscore the need for a betterunderstanding of a link between race andheart disease. While cardiovascular disease isthe number-one killer of all Americans, thereare wide discrepancies between blacks andnon-Hispanic whites when it comes to hearthealth, according to the American HeartAssociation.

Forty percent of African Americans sufferfrom hypertension, which can lead to more


“When I became a graduate student,I realized there wasn’t enough data

on African Americans and health disparities.I thought if the data isn’t there, someone needs

to start collecting it. Why not me?”

severe cardiovascular problems.The result is that blacks sufferheart attacks, strokes, kidneyfailure, vision problems andpremature death in far highernumbers than any other ethnicgroup. Hypertension can leadto poor birth outcomes regard-less of race, but curiously, even among hyper-tensive mothers-to-be, African-Americanwomen are three times more likely thanwomen of other races to develop complica-tions during pregnancy.

Nearly everything that is known aboutheart disease comes from the landmark studybegun in 1948 in Framingham, Mass., thatexamined the rate of cardiovascular prob-lems, genetic makeup, diet and lifestyle habits

of three generations of NewEnglanders. Most notably, thestudy identified the major riskfactors of heart disease as highblood pressure, high bloodcholesterol, smoking, obesity,diabetes and physical inactivity.

However, fewer than 10 blacks were includedin the study, a statistically negligible number.

“The question that arose in any academicconference, in any cardiology meeting, wasalways, do the results in Framingham applyto non-Caucasian Americans? Are thereunique aspects to the issue for African Amer-icans, particularly in the South?” asks Dr.Herman Taylor, principal investigator forthe Jackson Heart Study.

For the black population living in theSouth, heart disease is nothing less than anepidemic, Taylor says.“Mortality figures showthat black men in Mississippi have two and ahalf times the risk of death from cardiovas-cular disease as the average American whitemale,” he says. “Black women have up tofour times the risk. What’s more, the risk ismost profound in younger people, those intheir 40s and 50s.”

The Jackson Heart Study is the first tolook squarely at the complex interplay ofnutritional, genetic and socio-economicfactors in a sizeable African-American pop-ulation—5,302 residents of three Missis-sippi counties. Structurally, the study issimilar to its Framingham counterpart. But


The eating habits of southernblacks may pose a significant riskto their health. High-fat diets arepart of the local culture.


the Jackson study also monitors socialstresses that may be unique in their effect onAfrican Americans in the South, such asperceived discrimination, and other differ-ences (religious faith, for example) orregional factors, such as the high unem-ployment rate.

So far the study has found that the reasonsfor health outcomes among the black popu-lation may be more complex than anyonemight have predicted. While factors for car-diovascular risk tend to run in clusters in allethnic populations—candidates might havea combination of high blood pressure, dia-betes and obesity—for African Americans,the risk factors are slightly different thanthey are for the white population.

“In whites, you have high triglyceride lev-els,” notes Taylor. “In blacks, it tends to betruncal obesity or waist circumfer-ence, hypertension and low HDL,the good cholesterol. That’s sur-prising in some ways. One, histori-cally it’s been thought that if there’sanything good about the risk profilefor African Americans, it’s that theyhave high HDL levels, and that pro-tects them from having even morecardiovascular disease than theymight otherwise have had. In theJackson Heart Study, we have foundthat’s not the case.”

WORD OF MOUTHThe Kentucky-born mystery writerSue Grafton said that as a southernwoman, she was taught two things:“Never call attention to yourself,and never make anybody uncom-fortable.”

It’s excellent advice for an aspir-ing physician who wants to get themost out of the patient-doctor experience,and Landry follows it to the letter. Her voiceis one of her greatest assets. Travel in the U.S.and abroad has helped her cultivate anaccent that she alters to suit the companyand situation—anything from a brisk Bostonclip to a leisurely Alabama stroll. It’s aninstinct, rather than an act, and the effect onothers is dramatic.

In an interview with one of the JacksonHeart Study participants, Landry senses thewoman’s slight reluctance to open up abouther eating habits. With a bit of conversationabout the weather and local restaurants, and

a polite sprinkling of “yes, ma’ams” and “no,ma’ams,” Landry easily establishes a com-mon language of graciousness. In short order,her subject is smiling and talking about buf-fet dinners, barbecued chicken and her ongo-ing struggle to lose weight.

In Jackson, the community has been acentral factor in the heart study from itsinception. Each of the study’s many com-mittees includes two residents, who helpguide how the data will be used to benefit thestudy participants and the wider public. Also,the study has a number of volunteers, calledCommunity Health Advisors, who recom-

mend and run programs such as weight-lossinitiatives and cooking demonstrations.

Dr. Donna Antoine-Lavigne, coordina-tor for the study’s community outreach

and partnership office, emphasizes theimportance of a tight bond between thepublic and the study’s administration.“Without the community, you have nostudy,” she says. “Without the buy-in, thebelief and the trust, what you’re attemptingto make happen won’t happen. Word ofmouth is very strong; the confidence inlocal physicians is very strong, and thechurch is very strong. Participants are likelyto ask, ‘Pastor Jenkins, I received this letterfrom this study. Should I get involved?’ It’svery important to involve the communityfrom the start.”


Still, this is the South, home of Alabama’sinfamous Tuskegee Syphilis Study, which,between 1932 and 1972, led almost 400 poorblack sharecroppers infected with the diseaseto believe they were being treated, when infact they were not. Whether Tuskegee’s legacyhas permanently affected African Americans’trust of the medical community is a matter ofdebate. A 2008 study done by researchers atJohns Hopkins has suggested that blacks arewilling to participate in clinical trials, but aremore fearful than whites that they’ll betreated as guinea pigs.

“It’s not that black people don’t want to beinvolved in clinical trials, but certain thingshave to be in place,” says Antoine-Lavigne.

Mainly, those conditions were “trust, truthand honesty,” according to Francis Henderson,

the Jackson Heart Study’s deputy director.Participants wanted to know immediately ifthey had a medical condition. “Also, theywanted black doctors and researchers. It wasimportant that the people on the staff look likethem. Most importantly, though, they wantedto know they would be listened to.”

HOW MUCH FAT?There’s a burst of melodic chirping in thepresentation room in Jackson as peoplepower down their cell phones in anticipationof Landry’s presentation of her research find-ings. Doctors, nurses, assistants and otherstaff filter in until all chairs have been taken,and only standing room remains. One laptophas failed Landry, so she’s coolly tryinganother. When that works, but not in exactly

the way she wants, she makes thebest of it and begins.

Her research has several aims.She is using the genetic materialcollected from some of the 5,302study subjects to define diet-adjusted lipid phenotypes, whichshe can then associate with specificregions of DNA. Broadly speaking,she is looking at the interactionsbetween genes and nutrients and avariety of fatty acids, such asmonounsaturated fats, like the kindfound in olive oil, and trans fats—

margarine and Crisco, for example—nowbanned from many restaurant menus.

The results of the food frequency ques-tionnaire, which asked people what kinds offoods they eat on a regular basis, and howoften, allow Landry to determine how muchfat is in their diets. She can then compare thedietary fat against their genotype and look attheir cholesterol levels to determine wherethe genetic intersections occur. If she findslinks, she might be able to conclude there is arelationship between the genes and lipidmetabolism, which determines how easilycholesterol is delivered to the heart.

“We’ve found that depending on whatgenetic inheritance you have, fatty acids havea different impact on your health,” Landrysays.“So, you might be more likely to get car-diovascular disease if you have some genesrather than others. Some drugs might work onyou, and some may not.” Once the JacksonHeart Study is further along, her data may beuseful as part of a nutritional interventionstrategy, where African Americans might beable to prevent the onset of heart disease byadhering to a specific diet.

The lights come back on, and the groupbreaks into applause. People rise and beginchatting with Landry about her findings.When asked what impact her research willhave on the study and beyond, the praisefrom Taylor, the study’s principal investiga-tor, is effusive and unhesitating. “Latrice’swork really poises her for a position of lead-ership in the future,” he notes. “She repre-sents the very best of a generation of brilliantinvestigators coming into medicine with anew set of tools. If I had 10 more like her, Icould retire.” TM

Claire Vail is a senior web content specialistat the medical school.

Scenes from a reunion of Latrice Landry’s extendedfamily held in Jackson, Miss.,in late July.

pne summer, along about 1904, my father rented a camp on a lake in

Maine and took us all there for the month of August,” begins one of the great,

redolent memoirs in American writing, E.B. White’s “Once More to the

Lake.” “We all got ringworm from some kittens and had to rub Pond’s

Extract on our arms and legs night and morning,” the essay continues, “and

my father rolled over in a canoe with all his clothes on; but outside of that the

vacation was a success and from then on none of us ever thought there was any

place in the world like that lake in Maine.” ■ Places in the country that gradually

become places in the heart—that’s what we’re after here. Summer is the time for feeling pebbles and

sand between your toes, tasting the breeze off the water. It’s time for building memories with your shirt-

tail out, sitting around a card table by lamplight, lounging on the cabin porch at noon. It’s time to let

the clock stop ticking, or tick in different terms. Over the following pages we visit summer getaways

in Maine, New Hampshire and Rhode Island that have accrued special meaning for their owners.

BY BRUCE MORGAN

PHOTOS BY WEBB CHAPPELL

We visit Tufts people at sites around New England to see what keeps them

going back

my summer place“


place

In summer places, we both loseand find ourselves.



Berman and his wife,Ruth, on their regular

morning bike ride;twins Zoe and Ellie

at their swing; Zoe, Ellie and Zachary

have a kid-size bite to eat.


HEN HE WAS 11 OR 12 YEARS OLD, HARRIS BERMAN

and a friend camped overnight at a secludedsite on Lake Winnisquam, in south-central New

Hampshire, where he was staying for the summerwith his sister, mom and dad, a plumbing whole-

saler from nearby Concord. “I always loved thespot,” Berman says about the small peninsula of

land with its canopy of pine trees jutting into the14-mile-long lake. “I used to sit at the point, look out at the lake andmountains, and contemplate the world.”

It took a while, but Berman, 70, vice dean at the medical school,now owns that patch of ground where he pitched his tent. First, he keptreturning to the lake and renting cabins through the years when he was a physician living in Nashua. He kept his eye on the property. In 1987,he and a three-year-old daughter, Sarabeth, were out boating at firstlight, with the lake smooth as a mirror, when they passed the point and spotted a “For Sale” sign. Within two weeks, Berman and his wife,Ruth, bought the land and proceeded to build a family home that nowincludes 10 bedrooms, counting a guest house. Dockside, he keeps a 20-foot speed boat, a 16-foot catamaran, a Jet Ski (“not very PC,”he concedes) and a canoe.

These days, those splashing in the lake—which Berman calls“a hidden treasure, the second biggest lake in New Hampshire and historically sort of a blue-collar lake”—include three generations andthe memory of another. His daughter, Kim, abandons New York City and camps out for the summer with her kids, Samson, Anna-Sophiaand Aidan. His son, Seth, a Boston lawyer, visits weekends with histhree children, Zoe, Ellie and Zachary. Daughters Rebecca, chief resident in medicine at the Brigham, and Sarabeth, now manager of a dance company in China, come when they can.

“We’ve basically been going there for 60 years,” says the head of the Berman clan. “My dad loved that place. I love that place.My children love that place, and now my grandchildren are learning to love that place.”

Seth and his wife, Mandy,ply the waters.

Wblue-collar lake


PERSON COULD BE FORGIVEN FOR NOT

understanding who all the familymembers are, or in which cottagesthey reside.

“The Red House is our home,where Trudy and I live. Mydaughter Ann owns the White

House, where she stays withher husband and five kids. My daughter Kathleen, her husband and two kids are back here in what wecall the House in the Woods. Dan is in Dan’s House.And Teddy is in Teddy’s House,” says Dr. JohnHarrington, 71, the medical school’s dean emeritus.Got that? Every summer, the extended Harringtonfamily happily convenes at a place known as theHummocks (a geographic term for small, knobbyhills), on the banks of the broadSakonnet River in Portsmouth, R.I.

It all began when Harrington’sfather, a high school teacher in FallRiver, Mass., just 10 miles distant,bought a cottage here in 1940 forthe princely sum of $1,500. Johnwas not quite four years old. Exceptfor a few years during residency,he’s been back every summer since.

That original cottage, with the initials of the threeHarrington boys carved over the door, is now ownedby Daniel Harrington, ’64. John’s other brother,Edward, a senior U.S. district court judge, has hisown place nearby. A medley of Harrington childrenand grandchildren fill the gaps, sunning, fishing, playing cards, sailing, digging quahogs, swimming (“a classic New England rocky beach, murder on your feet, builds character”) or keeping a watchfuleye over the smallest members.

“What we do there is nothing special, just peoplecoming and going, but the place has a remarkablepull on the family,” says the former dean. “My wife,Trudy, has always called it ‘the heart of the family.’ ”Harrington and his wife have seven children. Two livein Texas, another in Virginia—and the distances

don’t matter a bit. They all spend aminimum two weeks every summerat the Hummocks with their kids.

This summer, in late July, Johnand Trudy hosted their annual lobsterfeed out on the porch overlooking theSakonnet. How many people turnedup for the meal? Harrington startscounting out loud. “Fourteen adultsand 18 kids,” he announces finally.

harrington central

A


Facing page: John Harrington pulls a kayak along the shore; sevengranddaughters from four differentfamilies play Scrabble on the porch.This page: Elizabeth and Paige(swinging) have a go at croquet;Harrington’s house and the familywall draped with towels.


Sherm and Betty Gleason (right) have used Maine as a refuge for more than 60 years.Below, their home nestled among the pines.

ELATIVELY FEW PEOPLE CAN CLAIM TO HAVE GONE ANYWHERE

on a regular basis for 85 years. Charles “Sherm”Gleason, ’45, can.

His dad launched the trend in 1923 by purchasing a small, shingled cottage in a meadow on an islandnear Boothbay Harbor, Maine. Conditions were primi-tive, with “no light, water, a well up the hill,” remem-bers Sherm. Later, after he married Betty Hooper

J54, M46, in 1947, the newlyweds moved the cottage onto a rockyledge overlooking the mouth of the Sheepscot River, then inhaled thesalt air and began improving things, enlarging and upgrading the space.“We gradually made it into a respectable dwelling,” Sherm suggests.

Windswept and remote, the Boothbay real estate was precious forwhat it lacked. All through the 1950s and 1960s, neither phone nor TVintruded on the peace. This was gold to Sherm and Betty Gleason, whowere working as a pediatrician and a family doctor, respectively, out of their home in Wareham, Mass., and often felt pressed by demands from their patients. “My parents couldn’t walk out of their house withoutseeing patients,” observes youngest child Amy Gleason Wiegandt, J80,M85, now a family physician in her hometown. The 88-year-old patriarchconfirms the notion of escape, saying, “My wife and I always looked atMaine as a haven, a place to get away from the hustle and bustle.”

In the 1970s the Gleasons bought a small Cape next door to theirmain house, and dubbed the twin properties Loafing Rocks and WildAcres. Everything is trim and comfortable now, with a refurbished kitchen,a new dock and two dinghies and a kayak standing by. The five Gleasonchildren, including Robert, A78, who runs a website promoting the cottages for weekly rental (www.wildacresmaine.com), get up there whenthey can. Pamela Gleason Swearingen, ’78, another Tufts physician in the family, says she likes to go biking or else “sit and look at the waterand read.” Her kid sister’s pleasures are more focused. “Lobster,” Amysays bluntly. “Get it. Cook it in our own pots.”

Rocean view


34 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 PHOTO: ALONSO NICHOLS

ON CAMPUS MEDICAL SCHOOL NEWS

tufts university and tufts medical center have won a $20 million

federal grant to streamline the process of turning laboratory researchdiscoveries into real-world treatments for patients. The Clinical andTranslational Science Award (CTSA) from the National Institutes ofHealth (NIH) will provide funds over five years for the new Tufts Clin-ical and Translational Science Institute.

With the institute as a resource, researchers from the medical schooland across the university will work with health-care organizations,community groups and medical companies to translate scientific break-throughs into widely used drugs, therapies and good clinical practices.

Tufts was one of 14 academic health-care organizations in 11 statesto receive CTSAs this May. In 2012, when the program is fully imple-mented, approximately 60 CTSAs will be included in the project,with an annual budget of $500 million.

Harry P. Selker, a cardiologist and researcher who serves as princi-pal investigator for the Tufts Clinical and Translational Science Insti-tute, describes this as a visionary direction for the NIH. Although theNIH contributes about $30 billion a year to biomedical research in theUnited States, “there’s not much that seems to come out of it for thepublic’s benefit, and Congress feels that way, too,” he says.

The CTSA system provides something “much broader, cross-cuttingand multidisciplinary,” says Selker, a professor at the medical school and

director of the Sackler School of GraduateBiomedical Sciences’ clinical research pro-gram. “We’re now part of a consortiumnationally which really will transform clin-ical research and translational research frombench to bedside.”

The Tufts institute will serve as a “virtualhome” where scientists can get help withtheir research, as well as an education pro-gram for the next generation of biomedicalscientists. “If we’re going to change the wayresearch is done, we have to, in fact, trans-form the way we train researchers,” Selkersays.

FINDING PARTNERSPart of that training involves collaboration.In addition to the medical school, the insti-tute will assist researchers at Tufts’ otherhealth sciences schools: the Sackler School,the School of Dental Medicine, the Cum-mings School of Veterinary Medicine and

Harry Selker, the cardiologist who is the principal investigator for thenew Tufts Clinical and TranslationalScience Institute.

Out of the laboratoryTufts University and Tufts Medical Center receive $20 million from NIH for clinical and translational research by Jacqueline Mitchell

COURTESY PHOTO s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 t u f t s m e d i c i n e 35

the Friedman School of Nutrition Scienceand Policy. The School of Arts & Sciences,the School of Engineering and the JonathanM. Tisch College of Citizenship and PublicService are also included in the award.

The institute has also partnered witheight other Tufts-affiliated hospitals, twohealth plans, a score of community and aca-demic organizations (from the Framing-ham Heart Study to the Boston Museum ofScience) and a handful of private-sectorcompanies, including Pfizer Inc. and Mil-lennium Pharmaceuticals.

Tufts’ history of working across disci-plines and with local communities—“we’remuch more the extrovert,” Selker says—makes it stand out among the other CTSArecipients. “We can be innovative in pullingtogether researchers from different schools,from different affiliated hospitals, and drawin people from other institutions outside ofTufts,” says Provost and Senior Vice Presi-dent Jamshed Bharucha.

For example, to help set research priori-ties, institute members will have regularmeetings with the community organizationsto find out what health needs they see.

Selker says applying for the grant wasitself an exercise in collaboration. More than200 people at Tufts and elsewhere worked onthe application over the last three years.“This is the short version, for those of youwho want to read it,” he says, waving aninches-thick tome. “The long version is1,000-plus pages.”

Dean Michael Rosenblatt says that formany years Tufts has been an importanttraining ground for aspiring researchers whogo on to be leaders in the field.“So when theNIH about three years ago announced itwas going to change in a fundamental waythe format for clinical research and training,it was very important for us to mobilize andmove into a leadership position as part ofthat new initiative.” This grant, he says, is ameasure of that success.

“We’ve now joined a group,” Rosenblattsays, “a true vanguard of institutions thatwill transform research in the United States.”

Julie Flaherty is a senior health scienceswriter in Tufts’ Office of Publications. Shemay be reached at [email protected].

AT A MEMORIAL SERVICE, YOU CAN OFTEN

tell the degree to which someone wasbeloved even if you never met them.Such was the case on June 4, whenfriends, family and colleagues gatheredon the Boston campus to celebrate the life of Joseph Perry, manager of theOffice of Information Technology (OIT),who died in February after a three-yearstruggle with melanoma. He was 44years old and the father of two youngchildren (see obituary, page 51).

Each person who spoke at the servicesummoned yet anotheraspect of the man. DavidDamassa, professor ofanatomy, surveyed thepacked room and judgedthe size of the crowd to be“wonderful, and a real tes-tament to Joe’s impact onthe Tufts community.” In aremark that would echothrough the ceremony,Damassa said Joe wasalways a “glass-half-full”type of guy who had “aunique ability to live inthe moment.” Perry loved sports,both as a player and a fan. If still alive,said Damassa, “I know that Joe wouldhave been here with his Celtics T-shirton, looking forward to the NBA Finals.”

Ira Herman, a professor of physiologywho had been Perry’s colleague for thepast 20 years, spoke thoughtfully of hisfriend’s lasting influence. “Joe changedme, not only in his life but in his death,”said Herman quietly. “Joe taught meabout caring for others. He was compas-sionate for everyone.”

Kevin Murphy, an OIT administrator,touched on Perry’s irrepressible nature,whereby a simple trip to pick up some-thing for lunch became an odyssey filledwith conversational detours. “Every daywas a social occasion for Joe,” Murphy

remarked, pointing out that it was routine for the 15-member OIT department to share lunch together.“He connected me with a lot of people.Joe also introduced a lot of us to golf.He didn’t really show us how to play it,but he introduced us to it.” Lookingback on 10 years of Perry’s company,Murphy said his memories were of twofriends and good times.

David Hastings, an adjunct professorat the Friedman School, played a slow,soulful trombone version of “Amazing

Grace” early in the program. He describedhimself as “Joe’s pocketrabbi—he would alwayspump me for jokes.”Hastings told a recentjoke that Perry hadenjoyed involving frogsand Jews in Brooklynthat doesn’t bear repeating here. Then he concluded, ratherunexpectedly, by saying,“He was a beautiful andwonderful man. He was

not perfect, but he was wonderful,which is even better.”

John Castellot, professor of anato-my, had attended Red Sox games with Perry for a few years and loved his memory of that period. But it was how gracefully his friend had borne the strain of illness and impendingdeath that moved him most. “What really struck me about Joe,” saidCastellot, “was that a year or twobefore he passed away, he had everyreason to be bitter and was not. He wascentered. Now when I think of trying to be centered, I think about Joe.”

A memorial plaque for the Joseph B.Perry Conference Room in the OIT officeon the second floor of the M&V Buildingwas unveiled at the end of the service.

Joe Perry

REMEMBERING JOE

36 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 PHOTOS: ALONSO NICHOLS

ON CAMPUS MEDICAL SCHOOL NEWS

edar fowler, ’10, is one of

110 health sciences students inthe country who will get thechance to conduct biomedical

research full time for a year as part of a $4million venture by the Howard HughesMedical Institute (HHMI).

Fowler is among the 42 students—from 26medical schools, three veterinary schools, adental school and an osteopathic school—who will take part in the HHMI–NIHResearch Scholars Program, which brings tophealth sciences students to the National Insti-tutes of Health campus to conduct hands-onbiomedical research. Students in this pro-gram are also known as Cloister Scholarsbecause they live at a refurbished cloister onthe NIH campus in Bethesda, Md., duringtheir training. They will visit several NIHlabs before choosing the research project theywill pursue with an NIH mentor. SamanthaJordan, A06, D10, was the nation’s only den-tal student selected as a Cloister Scholar.

Fowler says he is looking forward tohaving an array of research choices to pickfrom, and is currently leaning towardchoosing a lab dealing with oncology orinfectious diseases. “In a lot of ways it is acarte-blanche offer,” Fowler says. “You apply,and if you’re accepted, you walk into a labwith your own funding and say, ‘All right, Iwant to do this.’ It’s a wonderful opportu-

nity. It kind of makes you feel giddy.”In a separate HHMI program, another 68

students have been awarded Research TrainingFellowships for Medical Students, which allowthem to implement a research plan and workat a lab anywhere in the United States, exceptthe NIH campus in Bethesda.

“These students will one day be on thefront lines between biomedical research andthe public,” said Peter J. Bruns, HHMI’s vicepresident for grants and special programs.“We want them to have a strong backgroundin research and then pursue it as a career.”

Originally from Montana, Fowler earnedhis undergraduate degree in biochemistryfrom Reed College in Portland, Ore. He thentook a four-year hiatus from school, spendingtwo years working in a laboratory and twoyears doing clinical research in oncologybefore deciding on medical school.

“When I was applying to schools, I reallyliked what Tufts had to offer,” Fowler says.“And it was in Boston, the medical Mecca.”

Fowler says he has been interested inthe HHMI–NIH program for a while, hav-ing learned about it after spending a sum-mer working in the NIH’s Rocky MountainNational Laboratory in Montana. “Thereare very few opportunities out there to goand work on some really intriguing projectsat such a high-profile institution,” he says.

—Kaitlin Melanson

DOUBLE WINDr. Lewis Cohen, clinical professor of psychiatry at Baystate Medical Center,has received two prestigious awards.

Cohen is one of 190 artists, scientists and scholars selected from morethan 2,600 applicants to receive a Guggenheim Fellowship. He has also beenchosen for the Bellagio Residency Program, which offers influential scholars the chance to collaborate while in residence at an Italian estate. Cohen plans to take a six-month sabbatical to complete his book, No Good Deed: Allegations of Murder in the Medical Community.

ON JUNE 3, THE FIRST-EVER TUFTS DISTINCTION

Awards were given to celebrate staff

and faculty who make the university an

outstanding place to work and learn. Susan

Albright, director of the Tufts University

Sciences Knowledgebase (TUSK), was

singled out to receive the Change Agent

Award, reserved for those who have created

new opportunities for innovation.

Albright “has helped transform

delivery of the curriculum and educational

resources in the health sciences at Tufts

and around the world,” the citation stated

in part. “Thanks to her vision and tenacity,

what started as a proof-of-concept project

in the mid-1990s has now become one of

the premier digital resources in higher

education. More than one million users

around the globe have benefited from

Susan’s work, and in her 17 years at

Tufts, she has continued to break new

ground in health sciences education and

technology.”

EMPLOYEE OF DISTINCTION

Third-year medical studentnamed NIH research scholar

Susan Albright gets a hug from Tufts President Lawrence S. Bacow.

C

MATCH DAY 2008

ON MARCH 20, THE 175 MEMBERS OF

the Class of 2008 learned where

they will spend their years of

residency training. Match Day

is conducted by the National

Resident Matching Program, and

more than 15,000 medical seniors

in the U.S. took part this year.

In keeping with recent trends

at Tufts and nationally, almost

half of the class will train to

become primary-care physicians,

with a quarter of the class pursuing

internal medicine. Eighteen

percent of Tufts students will train

as surgeons. Emergency medicine,

anesthesiology and pediatrics were

other popular specialties.

As in previous years, more

than a fourth of the class will

remain in Massachusetts.

Together, hospitals in New York

and California drew the lion’s

share of this year’s graduates.

1. Ryan Paganelliopens his letter. 2. Rhoda Raji wipesaway a tear of joy. 3. Dean Rosenblattoffers a word ofadvice to Sonali Paul.4. Shelly Tien beams a smile among friends. 5. Christie Langenbergshares her good news.Roughly half the classwill train as primary-care physicians.

Around and about


1 2

3

4 5


ON CAMPUS RESIDENCIES 2008

ARIZONACARRIE ADRION, EMERGENCY MEDICINEUniversity of Arizona Program, Tucson

CALIFORNIAJAIME BAREA, PEDIATRICSUniversity of California–San Diego, San DiegoSUNG CHOI, TRANSITIONALNaval Medical Center, San DiegoAPARNA DANDEKAR, FAMILY MEDICINEUniversity of California–San Francisco, San FranciscoJOSHUA EDWARDS, ANESTHESIOLOGYStanford University Program, StanfordTransitional, Stanford University Program, StanfordMARISTELLA EVANGELISTA, PLASTIC SURGERYUniversity of California–Irvine, IrvineBRYAN FONG, ANESTHESIOLOGYUCLA Medical Center, Los AngelesABILASH GOPAL, PSYCHIATRYUniversity of California–San Francisco, San FranciscoFRANCIS HSIAO, DERMATOLOGYUniversity of California–Davis, SacramentoMedicine Prelim., Caritas Carney Hospital, Boston, Mass.YUNG-SHEE HSU, OB/GYNCedars–Sinai Medical Center, Los AngelesCATHERINE LE, NEUROLOGYUniversity of California–Davis, SacramentoJACQUELINE LEON, PEDIATRICSUniversity of California–Irvine, IrvineTRAN LY, INTERNAL MEDICINECedars–Sinai Medical Center, Los AngelesSARAH MATATHIA, FAMILY MEDICINEUniversity of California–San Francisco, San FranciscoRYAN PAGANELLI, EMERGENCY MEDICINEStanford University Program, StanfordELLEN PARK, ANESTHESIOLOGYUniversity of Southern California Program, Los Angeles, Transitional, MetroWest Medical Center, Framingham, Mass.DANIEL PARKER, FAMILY MEDICINEUniversity of California–Sutter Medical Center, Santa RosaJORDAN SIEGEL, UROLOGYUniversity of California at Irvine Medical Center, Irvine Surgery Prelim., University of California at IrvineMedical Center, IrvineEDWARD TANGCHITNOB, OB/GYNCedars–Sinai Medical Center, Los AngelesMICHAEL THACKREY, FAMILY MEDICINEUniversity of California–San Francisco, San FranciscoJADE TRAN, PEDIATRICSChildren’s Hospital of Orange County, OrangeYEN TRUONG, OB/GYNSanta Clara Valley Medical Center, San JoseMICHELLE WONG, FAMILY MEDICINEContra Costa Regional Medical Center, Martinez

COLORADOAMELIA VIROSTKO, FAMILY MEDICINEUniversity of Colorado School of Medicine, DenverPADADE VUE, PEDIATRICSUniversity of Colorado School of Medicine, Denver

CONNECTICUTSARAH AXLER, EMERGENCY MEDICINEUniversity of Connecticut Health Center, FarmingtonKEVIN DOUGHERTY, INTERNAL MEDICINEYale–New Haven Medical Center, New HavenMONIQUE MARTIN, FAMILY MEDICINEUniversity of Connecticut Health Center, FarmingtonHEATHER TORY, PEDIATRICSYale–New Haven Medical Center, New Haven

DISTRICT OF COLUMBIAELENA ESCAPINI, PEDIATRICSGeorgetown University Hospital ProgramHOWARD MAHONEY, GENERAL SURGERYWalter Reed Army Medical CenterSOPHIA MAURASSE, PSYCHIATRYGeorge Washington University

DOUGLAS PORTER, NEUROLOGYGeorgetown University Medical CenterMedicine Prelim., Baystate Medical Center, Springfield, Mass.JASON RADOWSKY, GENERAL SURGERYWalter Reed Army Medical CenterJAY RHEE, NEUROSURGERYGeorgetown University Medical CenterSurgery Prelim., Georgetown University Medical CenterKARI SCHICHOR, OB/GYNGeorge Washington UniversityNATANYAH SIEGEL, INTERNAL MEDICINEGeorge Washington UniversityDANIELLE SILVERMAN, EMERGENCY MEDICINEGeorgetown University/Washington Hospital CenterProgramALICIA ZAMIR, PSYCHIATRYWalter Reed Army Medical Center

FLORIDATARUN MIRPURI, DIAGNOSTIC RADIOLOGYUniversity of Miami–Jackson Memorial Medical Center,Miami Medicine Prelim., Caritas Carney Hospital, Boston

GEORGIAANNE SIEDLER, DERMATOLOGYEmory University School of Medicine, AtlantaMedicine Prelim., Caritas Carney Hospital, Boston

HAWAIIGWENDOLYN GARNETT, GENERAL SURGERYUniversity of Hawaii Program, Honolulu

ILLINOISLAURA COWEN, INTERNAL MEDICINEMcGaw Medical Center–Northwestern University,ChicagoSCOTT GOLDBERG, EMERGENCY MEDICINECook County Hospital Program, ChicagoRONEN HARRIS, ANESTHESIOLOGYMcGaw Medical Center–Northwestern University,ChicagoTransitional, Grand Rapids Medical Education and Research Center, Grand Rapids, Mich.MICHAEL KRISS, INTERNAL MEDICINEMcGaw Medical Center–Northwestern University,ChicagoRAMSES RIBOT, NEUROLOGYRush University Medical Center, ChicagoMedicine Prelim., Rush University Medical Center,ChicagoSHELLY TIEN, OB/GYNAdvocate Illinois Masonic Medical Center, ChicagoRICKY WONG, NEUROSURGERYUniversity of Chicago Medical Center, Chicago

INDIANATYLER DAVIS, INTERNAL MEDICINEIndiana University School of Medicine Program,Indianapolis

IOWADENISE MARTINEZ, FAMILY MEDICINEUniversity of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics, Iowa City

MAINEELLIS JOHNSON, INTERNAL MEDICINEMaine Medical Center, Portland

MARYLANDSARAH CARLE, EMERGENCY MEDICINEJohns Hopkins Hospital, BaltimoreDAVID CHANG, INTERNAL MEDICINEJohns Hopkins University/Bayview Medical Center,BaltimoreMARGARET HAYES, INTERNAL MEDICINEJohns Hopkins Hospital, BaltimoreJONATHAN ZELKEN, PLASTIC SURGERYJohns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore

MASSACHUSETTSISABEL ARRILLAGA-ROMANY, NEUROLOGYMassachusetts General Hospital, Boston

Medicine Prelim., Massachusetts General Hospital,BostonLISA BATTAGLIA, INTERNAL MEDICINEBeth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, BostonEVAN BERG, INTERNAL MEDICINEBeth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, BostonDAVID BOYCE, ANESTHESIOLOGYBrigham & Women’s Hospital, BostonTransitional, Tufts Medical Center, BostonMORGAN BRESNICK, GENERAL SURGERYBoston University Medical Center, BostonDAVID BUCK, ANESTHESIOLOGYTufts Medical Center, BostonMedicine Prelim., Caritas Carney Hospital, BostonMARGARET CHAPMAN, DIAGNOSTIC RADIOLOGYBoston University Medical Center, BostonMedicine Prelim., Lahey Clinic, BurlingtonMATTHEW COHN, INTERNAL MEDICINETufts Medical Center, BostonMALGORZATA DAWISKIBA, MEDICINE/PRIMARY CARECambridge Hospital/Cambridge Health Alliance,CambridgeKATHARINE ESSELIN, OB/GYNBrigham & Women’s Hospital, BostonSTEPHEN EYRE, UROLOGYBrigham & Women’s Hospital/Harvard Medical School Program, BostonSurgery Prelim., Brigham & Women’s Hospital, BostonKRISTEN FARWELL, INTERNAL MEDICINETufts Medical Center, BostonANDREW FEDA, INTERNAL MEDICINEBoston University Medical Center, BostonJUSTIN FERNANDES, GENERAL SURGERYTufts Medical Center, BostonMICHAEL FOGEL, EMERGENCY MEDICINEBeth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, BostonSARAH FREEDMAN, INTERNAL MEDICINEBeth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, BostonGIL FREITAS, GENERAL SURGERYUniversity of Massachusetts Program, WorcesterE. WILSON GRANDIN, INTERNAL MEDICINEBrigham & Women’s Hospital, BostonMASILO GRANT, ANESTHESIOLOGYTufts Medical Center, BostonMedicine Prelim., Caritas St. Elizabeth’s MedicalCenter, BostonKAMILLA GREENIDGE, ANESTHESIOLOGYTufts Medical Center, BostonMedicine Prelim., Mount Sinai Hospital, New York CityRICHARD KALMAN, INTERNAL MEDICINEBeth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, BostonRUSSELL KERBEL, INTERNAL MEDICINEBeth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, BostonDAVID KERSTEIN, NEUROLOGYBoston University Medical Center, BostonMedicine Prelim., Boston University Medical Center,BostonJUSTIN KO, DERMATOLOGYMassachusetts General Hospital, BostonMedicine Prelim., St. Luke’s/Roosevelt Hospital, New York CityJUSTIN LEE, GENERAL SURGERYCaritas St. Elizabeth’s Medical Center, BostonANNA LINNELL, PHYSICAL MEDICINE & REHABILITATIONTufts Medical Center, BostonMedicine Prelim., Caritas Carney Hospital, BostonDAVID LO, SURGERY PRELIM.Massachusetts General Hospital, BostonVIOLA MANTEUFEL, INTERNAL MEDICINETufts Medical Center, BostonKELLY MCMENIMEN, MEDICINE/PEDIATRICSBaystate Medical Center, SpringfieldKATHERINE METCALF, ANESTHESIOLOGYUniversity of Massachusetts Program, WorcesterMedicine Prelim., St. Vincent Hospital, WorcesterRICHARD MISIASZEK, EMERGENCY MEDICINEBaystate Medical Center, SpringfieldPAUL NEMESKAL, INTERNAL MEDICINELahey Clinic, BurlingtonJENNIFER NEUWALDER, PSYCHIATRY/CHILD PSYCHIATRYUniversity of Massachusetts Program, Worcester


SIDDHARTHA PARKER, INTERNAL MEDICINEUniversity of Massachusetts Program, WorcesterMARC PASSO, EMERGENCY MEDICINEBoston University Medical Center, BostonTransitional, Newton–Wellesley Hospital, Newton Lower FallsSONALI PAUL, INTERNAL MEDICINEMassachusetts General Hospital, BostonWILSON PYLE, EMERGENCY MEDICINEBaystate Medical Center, SpringfieldJASON RAHAL, NEUROSURGERYTufts Medical Center, BostonELENA RESNICK, INTERNAL MEDICINEBeth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, BostonJASON SAILLANT, ORTHOPEDIC SURGERYTufts Medical Center, BostonASHRAF SALEEMUDDIN, INTERNAL MEDICINEBoston University Medical Center, BostonJASON SPIEGLER, ANESTHESIOLOGYUniversity of Massachusetts Program, WorcesterMedicine Prelim., St. Vincent Hospital, WorcesterNICOLE STEINMULLER, FAMILY MEDICINEBoston University Medical Center, BostonDENNIS TEEHAN, PSYCHIATRYBoston University Medical Center, BostonKIRAN THAKUR, NEUROLOGYMassachusetts General Hospital, BostonMedicine Prelim., Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore, Md.LIESBETH TRYZELAAR, INTERNAL MEDICINEBoston University Medical Center, BostonBENJAMIN WESSLER, INTERNAL MEDICINETufts Medical Center, Boston

MICHIGANMARK HAKE, SURGERY PRELIM.University of Michigan Program, Ann Arbor

MINNESOTAJILLIAN SMITH, EMERGENCY MEDICINEHealthPartners Institute for MedicalEducation/Regions Hospital, St. Paul

NEW HAMPSHIREDIANE STEVENS, PSYCHIATRYDartmouth–Hitchcock Medical Center, Lebanon

NEW JERSEYSARA PRASERTSIT, OPHTHALMOLOGYUMDNJ–New Jersey Medical School Program, NewarkMedicine Prelim., Cedars–Sinai Medical Center, Los Angeles, Calif.SARA SAKAMOTO, ORTHOPEDIC SURGERYUMDNJ–New Jersey Medical School Program, NewarkMICHAEL SANTONI, GENERAL SURGERYSt. Barnabas Medical Center, LivingstonROLANDO VALENZUELA, EMERGENCY MEDICINEUMDNJ–New Jersey Medical School Program, Newark

NEW YORKANNE ABBOTT, PEDIATRICSNew York Presbyterian Hospital–Columbia, New York CityDENA ASAAD, EMERGENCY MEDICINEMount Sinai Hospital, New York CityEMILY BERGER, DERMATOLOGYNew York University Medical Center, New York CityPediatrics Prelim., Massachusetts General Hospital,Boston, Mass.MOLLY BRODER, PEDIATRICS/PRIMARY–SOCIAL PEDIATRICSAlbert Einstein College of Medicine, Montefiore, BronxROYCE CHEN, OPHTHALMOLOGYNew York Presbyterian Hospital–Columbia, New York City Transitional, St. Vincent’s Hospital, New York CityJAY DESAI, INTERNAL MEDICINENew York University Medical Center, New York CityDEEPTI DRONAMRAJU, INTERNAL MEDICINEMount Sinai Hospital, New York CityPATRICK FEI, GENERAL SURGERYStaten Island University Hospital, Staten Island

JONATHAN FLUG, DIAGNOSTIC RADIOLOGYWinthrop–University Hospital, MineolaMedicine Prelim., NYU School of Medicine–NorthShore University Hospital, ManhassetMICHELLE GABA, PEDIATRICSWestchester Medical Center, ValhallaBRYAN GAING, DIAGNOSTIC RADIOLOGYNYU School of Medicine–North Shore UniversityHospital, ManhassetTransitional, Flushing Hospital Medical Center, FlushingDANIEL GARNET, DIAGNOSTIC RADIOLOGYWinthrop–University Hospital, MineolaMedicine Prelim., Winthrop–University Hospital,MineolaJONATHAN GREENE, INTERNAL MEDICINEMount Sinai Hospital, New York CityLUCIAN IANCOVICI, INTERNAL MEDICINENew York Presbyterian Hospital–Columbia, New York CitySANG JEONG, FAMILY MEDICINESouth Nassau Communities Hospital, OceansideJON KERR, EMERGENCY MEDICINESUNY–Stony Brook, Stony BrookBRIAN KINCAID, ORTHOPEDIC SURGERYNorth Shore LIJ–Albert Einstein College of Medicine,New Hyde ParkCALEB HILL, INTERNAL MEDICINE/RESEARCHMount Sinai Hospital, New York CityJANICE LIN, INTERNAL MEDICINEMount Sinai Hospital, New York CityANISH MAMMEN, INTERNAL MEDICINEBeth Israel Medical Center, New York CityJANET MAPA, INTERNAL MEDICINENew York University Medical Center, New York CityJOCELYN SCHEINERT, DIAGNOSTIC RADIOLOGYAlbert Einstein College of Medicine–Montefiore, BronxMedicine Prelim., Lahey Clinic, Burlington, Mass.ZIAD SERGIE, INTERNAL MEDICINEMount Sinai Hospital, New York CityAARON SUMMERS, EMERGENCY MEDICINENorth Shore LIJ–Albert Einstein College of Medicine,New Hyde ParkAMIT SURA, DIAGNOSTIC RADIOLOGYSt. Luke’s/Roosevelt Hospital, New York CityMedicine Prelim., New York University Medical Center,New York CityMATTHEW TASH, ANESTHESIOLOGYNew York Presbyterian Hospital–Weill Cornell, New York CityLAUREN WEINTRAUB, PEDIATRICS/PRIMARY CAREMount Sinai Hospital, New York CityBRANDEN YEE, ANESTHESIOLOGYUniversity of Rochester–Strong Memorial Hospital,RochesterTransitional, Lemuel Shattuck Hospital, Boston, Mass.

NORTH CAROLINAELDESIA GRANGER, MEDICINE/PEDIATRICSUniversity of North Carolina Hospitals Program, Chapel HillCHARLES MCCORMICK, MEDICINE/PSYCHIATRYDuke University Medical Center, Durham

OHIOSOO KIM, ANESTHESIOLOGYCase Western Reserve University/University Hospitals,Cleveland

OREGONSARAH AUSTIN, INTERNAL MEDICINEOregon Health Sciences University, Portland

PENNSYLVANIAALYSSA BISHOP, DERMATOLOGYGeisinger Health System, DanvilleMedicine Prelim., Lahey Clinic, Burlington, Mass.MAYA GOLDIN-PERSCHBACHER, PEDIATRICSUniversity of Pittsburgh Medical Center, PittsburghJASON JUN, OPHTHALMOLOGYUniversity of Pennsylvania Program, PhiladelphiaTransitional, Caritas Carney Hospital, Boston, Mass.

REENA KANABAR, OB/GYNSt. Luke’s Hospital, BethlehemLAUREN KANTER, EMERGENCY MEDICINEHospital of the University of Pennsylvania, PhiladelphiaLUCAS MARZEC, INTERNAL MEDICINEHospital of the University of Pennsylvania, PhiladelphiaLELA NAYAK, INTERNAL MEDICINEThomas Jefferson University Hospital, PhiladelphiaRHODA RAJI, OB/GYNTemple University Program, PhiladelphiaJENNIFER SALOTTO, GENERAL SURGERYTemple University Program, PhiladelphiaSOURAV SENGUPTA, PSYCHIATRYUniversity of Pittsburgh Medical Center, PittsburghNATALIE STEIN, INTERNAL MEDICINEThomas Jefferson University Hospital, PhiladelphiaSHARVEN TAGHAVI, GENERAL SURGERYTemple University Program, PhiladelphiaCHENGYUAN WU, NEUROSURGERYThomas Jefferson University Hospital, PhiladelphiaSurgery Prelim., Thomas Jefferson University Hospital,Philadelphia

RHODE ISLANDARKADIY FINN, INTERNAL MEDICINEBrown University Program, ProvidenceKRISTINA MORI, OB/GYNBrown University Program–Women & Infants Hospital,ProvidenceCHRISTOPHER MUDGE, DIAGNOSTIC RADIOLOGYBrown University Program–Rhode Island Hospital,ProvidenceMedicine Prelim., St. Vincent Hospital, Worcester,Mass.ERIC TJONAHEN, PEDIATRICSBrown University Program–Rhode Island Hospital,Providence

SOUTH CAROLINATAYLOR HORST, ORTHOPEDIC SURGERYMedical University of South Carolina, Charleston

TENNESSEEMEGAN CONNELLY, PEDIATRICSVanderbilt University Program, NashvilleMICHAEL COREY, GENERAL SURGERYVanderbilt University Program, NashvilleAARON STAYMAN, NEUROLOGYVanderbilt University Program, NashvilleMedicine Prelim., Vanderbilt University Program,Nashville

TEXASRUSSELL BAUR, INTERNAL MEDICINESan Antonio Uniformed Services Health Consortium,Lackland AFB

UTAHLLOYD WILLIAMS, OPHTHALMOLOGYUniversity of Utah Affiliated Hospitals, Salt Lake CityMedicine Prelim., University of Utah AffiliatedHospitals, Salt Lake City

VERMONTBENJAMIN DORE, INTERNAL MEDICINEUniversity of Vermont Program, BurlingtonSCOTT LOOMIS, DIAGNOSTIC RADIOLOGYUniversity of Vermont Program, BurlingtonMedicine Prelim., University of Vermont Program,Burlington

WASHINGTONANNA LEE DESISTA, FAMILY MEDICINESwedish Medical Center/Cherry Hill, SeattleJASON DETTORI, OPHTHALMOLOGYUniversity of Washington Program, SeattleMedicine Prelim., Caritas St. Elizabeth’s MedicalCenter, Boston, Mass.CHRISTIE LANGENBERG, FAMILY MEDICINESwedish Medical Center/Cherry Hill, Seattle

ON CAMPUS COMMENCEMENT


t the start of commencement

ceremonies on May 18, DeanMichael Rosenblatt welcomedeveryone gathered in the

Gantcher Center on the Medford/ Somer-ville campus for the occasion and noted thespecial role destined to be played by theRev. Gloria White-Hammond, ’76, a uni-versity trustee, in helping to award theday’s degrees. “This will make the diplomasofficial,” he joked. “I would say very official.”Then the ceremony, with its usual mix ofemotion, levity and relief, began on a cloud-less spring day.

In his commencement address, DonaldWilson, ’62, senior vice president for healthsciences at Howard University and deanemeritus of the University of Maryland Schoolof Medicine, began by cautioning thoseassembled before him that “from today on,the patient—not you—is the center of yourprofessional career.” Wilson repeated the

statement twice, for effect, before noting thatthese newly minted doctors and researcherswould be starting out at a time when theUnited States spends more on medicine thanany other nation in the world, yet millions ofpeople do not have health insurance and halfof all Americans remain dissatisfied with thequality of the care they receive.

He next offered those seated down front,clad in cap and gown, some straightfor-ward advice.

First,“have a vision for where you want togo,” Wilson said. “Otherwise, how will youknow when you reach it?”At the same time, beprepared to adjust your vision along the way.He cited examples of tactical shifts from hisown career as evidence of the need for nimblemaneuvering as the years go by and unex-pected job challenges and opportunities arise.

Second, Wilson stressed, work hard. “Ifyou are looking for the secret and the shortcutaround hard work, there isn’t any,” he warned.

The only way out, he suggested, is through.Third, be honest.“Honesty contains enor-

mous power that you can use to your advan-tage,” Wilson remarked, whereas “lies have away of coming back to you like pigeons.”

Finally, know your strengths and weak-nesses. As Wilson put it, with typical blunt-ness: “Be realistic about who you are andwhat you can do.” All of which had a way of

Falling in love with a vision

A

1

2

circling back to the speaker’s initial injunc-tion, which seemed to shape and informthe others. “Fall in love with your vision,”Wilson urged in closing. “Plan on it, worktoward it and make it happen.”

Earlier, class president Jonathan Flug, ’08,reminisced about the past four years, remark-ing how the White Coat Ceremony, when hefirst donned his “milky-white coat,” a garmentin dramatic contrast with the well-used, off-white coats he had seen all around him in thehospital, seemed like yesterday. Flug remindedhis classmates how diligently they had stud-ied, joking, “We were masters of crammingthe night before each exam, and equally adeptat celebrating the next night.”

Flug further recalled how, during theirfirst interactions with patients on hospitalrounds, he and his classmates had been eagerto provide elaborate diagnoses and treat-ment plans “for any patient who showed up

with a runny nose.”We were “secretly proud,”he observed, when his class’s white coatsacquired the same off-white tinge as thoseworn by more senior staff.

Mun Chun Chan, Ph.D., who gave theSackler student address, opened his remarksby posing a blunt question to the medicalstudents in the audience: “Who are you andwhat the heck are you doing at my gradua-tion?” This drew widespread laughter.

He proceeded to draw a stark contrastbetween Sackler students (with their collec-tive memories of “days, nights, holidays,weekends spent in the lab”) and the medicalstudents who shared space with them on theBoston campus. He described himself, on atypical day, as sitting alone in the library,wearing a soiled T-shirt. “You are the oneswho are dressed way too nicely, sittingtogether and talking excitedly about yourfirst physical exam,” said Chan.

Yet the two groups, as different as theymay appear, have a common goal, hepointed out, and that is to improve theworld’s health. “We doctors and scientists,researchers and clinicians, rely on oneanother,” he said. “It is an honor to graduatewith each and every one of you.”

Earlier in the day, at the all-universitycommencement, award-winning journalistand television host Meredith Vieira, J75,urged members of the Class of 2008 to listento their own voices and to believe in them-selves. “You have an internal compass,” shesaid. “I would urge you to follow it.”

PHOTOS: LOUIE PALU s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 t u f t s m e d i c i n e 41

1. A family erupts as their graduate crosses the stage. 2. Taylor Horst shares the momentwith a friend. 3. Bryan Fong in full regalia. 4. Jonatha Flug, class president. 5. Commence-ment speaker Donald Wilson, ’62.

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42 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 PHOTO: MELODY KO

four beakers in which water is mixed withMartian soil. A group of 26 sensors samplesthe mixture to analyze its contents.

The Phoenix lander, with its camera eyeand robotic arms, is almost like a person tothe scientists who communicate with it daily.Each morning it receives a set of instruc-tions, carries out its tasks and then, by the endof the day, transmits information to an orbiterpassing around Mars that sends that infor-mation to Earth. Jason Kapit, a Tufts graduatestudent in mechanical engineering, organ-izes the information for further analysis.

Earlier this summer, NASA investigatorsannounced that one of the substances foundin the soil is perchlorate, a mineral salt thathad not been detected on Mars before. “It’ssomething we weren’t expecting,” saysKounaves,“and it changes our ideas about thegeochemistry of the planet and the types oflife that might live there.”

Found on Earth, perchlorates are used inrocket fuel, fireworks and fertilizer. Kounavessays it is also a high-energy food for severalkinds of bacteria. “We don’t know if Mars ishabitable,” he says, “but from what we havelearned so far, there is nothing to precludelife.”

Despite the program’s success, Kounavesbelieves that even if the Phoenix had failed,the mission would have been useful becauseof the experiential learning it offered stu-dents across the U.S. Undergraduate andgraduate students from his lab are helpingwith the research, and a dozen high schoolteachers and students from around thecountry, including one from Medford, Mass.,and one from New Hampshire, have intern-ships in the program.

Kounaves will be able to use some of whathe’s learned from the mission in his coursework at Tufts. “I teach a course in analyticalchemistry, and this would be interesting mate-rial to use when we study how to analyzeenvironmental samples,” says Kounaves.“Pro-fessor David Walt also has a team-taughtcourse on the evolution of the universe, andthis fits right in.”

The success of the mission, he says, has lefthim awestruck. “Sometimes,” he acknowl-edges, “I have trouble finding words todescribe it. I am humbled to be part of some-thing that used to be science fiction.”

UNIVERSITY NEWS THE WIDER WORLD OF TUFTS

last august, samuel kounaves stood on a darkened florida beach,

watching the dramatic liftoff of NASA’s Phoenix Mars Lander. The space-craft lit up the sky, and the roar of the rocket was heard miles away.

Kounaves, an associate professor of chemistry, felt a thrill of excitementand trepidation as the spacecraft began its 435-million-mile journey to whatthe group of people gathered on the shoreline could see as a small red speckin the sky.

Ten months later, on May 25, Kounaves listened and waited as thePhoenix lander began its descent to Mars, knowing its success or failurecould alter his life’s work. Kounaves is a co-investigator for NASA’s PhoenixMars mission and, along with students and other researchers from Tufts,he is analyzing daily streams of data at the University of Arizona in Tucson,where much of the Phoenix research is based. Kounaves and his researchteam designed a wet chemistry lab aboard the spaceship, which consists of

Chemist Sam Kounaves analyzes Martian soil using instrumentshis Tufts group helped develop by Marjorie Howard

Phoenix risen

Tufts chemist Sam Kounaves

iving in a neighborhood

close to a major highway mayexpose residents to higher thanaverage pollution rates, but up

until now, no one has known for sure.That’s about to change, as Tufts re-

searchers team up with five Boston-area com-munity groups to find the answer, aided by afive-year, $2.5 million grant from the NationalInstitute of Environmental Health Science.The scientists will focus on Somerville, Mass.,Boston’s Chinatown, and two other commu-nities that will be chosen soon.

A steering committee of representativesfrom five community groups will lead theresearch in collaboration with principal inves-tigator Doug Brugge, associate professor ofpublic health and family medicine.

The Somerville Transportation EquityPartnership initially approached Brugge,director of the Tufts Community ResearchCenter at the Tisch College of Citizenshipand Public Service at Tufts, about theimpact of highway pollution on Somervilleneighborhoods next to Interstate 93, amajor highway leading in and out ofBoston.

Meeting with other communities adja-cent to major highways, a literature reviewby Tufts faculty and more recent pilot stud-ies of Somerville’s I-93 pollution all set thefoundation for this grant, says Wig Zamoreof the Somerville Partnership. “We feel for-tunate to be included in this scientific effortto learn more about these understudiedexposures and to help better define theirmost serious impacts.”

By actively engaging the Boston andSomerville communities, the Tufts investi-gators predict the study will yield resultsthat more traditional research methodswould not achieve.

As part of the study, participants will beasked to submit blood samples to be testedfor evidence of heart and lung disease.“Many people live close to I-93 and I-95,

and they may well be exposed to these tinyparticles, but they aren’t aware of it,” saysBart Laws, senior investigator at the LatinAmerican Health Institute, another of theparticipating groups. “The particles areinvisible and odorless.”

The ultrafine particulates, as they areknown, have been shown to be present athigher levels close to highways, notes Brugge.

Additionally, co-investigators from theTufts School of Engineering plan to outfit avan with air-monitoring instrumentationthat can measure concentrations of a varietyof chemical pollutants. John Durant, an asso-ciate professor of civil and environmentalengineering, will lead that effort.

“Pollution levels are highest on the high-way and gradually decrease to backgroundlevels as they drift away from the cars on theroad,” says Brugge. “The air-monitoringvan will measure pollution levels within200 to 300 meters of highways in commu-

nities where most of the residents can seethe highway from their homes.”

In Boston, both I-93 and the Massachu-setts Turnpike border Chinatown. “Someresidents have lived at the junction of twomajor highways for decades,” says LydiaLowe, executive director of the Chinese Pro-gressive Association, another study partici-pant. “What does it mean for the long-termhealth of Chinatown residents, and whatare the implications for future developmentand planning for our community? Theseare some of the questions we hope this studycan help us to explore.”

Brugge says there is a large and growingbody of scientific evidence that shows ambi-

ent pollution, even at levels below those set bythe U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, isharmful to health.

“Most of the studies to date examinedregional effects of pollution,” he notes. “Onlyrecently has research begun to suggest thathighly concentrated local sources, such ashighways, may be even more hazardous. Toour knowledge, much of the work to date onnear-highway exposures and health hascome from southern California, so the proj-ect represents an expansion to the north-eastern United States.”

PHOTO: ISTOCKPHOTO s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 t u f t s m e d i c i n e 43

Impact of highway pollution on Boston-area communities is focus of new research

What we breathe

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New research indicates that highly concentrated local sources of pollution, suchas highways, may be even more hazardous to the health of urban residents.

44 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 PHOTOS: BRAD PARIS; UNIVERSITY ARCHIVES (OPPOSITE PAGE)

she was a pioneer in the field of radiology, a german jew who

helped others escape the Holocaust, and a mentor to generations of Tuftsmedical students. Now the legacy of Dr. Alice Ettinger (1889–1993) willbenefit students in years to come.

One of Ettinger’s protégés, Dr. David Follett, ’58, J97P, and hiswife, Dr. Sara Follett, J97P, of New York City, have committed $500,000to establish the David A. and Sara K. Follett Endowed Scholarship Fundat Tufts School of Medicine. David Follett, founding partner of Lenox

Hill Radiology and Medical Imaging inManhattan, says Alice Ettinger inspiredhim to make radiology his career; he notesthat the spirit of his great friend andteacher is behind the scholarship. “Alicewas a lifelong influence,” he says. “She wasa super lady.”

The gift establishes a half-tuition schol-arship at the medical school, with the firstFollett Scholar expected to be named in2011. The scholarship will follow the recip-ient through all four years of his or hermedical school education.

David Follett’s wife, Sara, is a formercommissioner of mental health for NewYork City, and their daughter, Sarah, grad-uated from Tufts University in 1997. TheFolletts have been generous supporters ofboth the medical school and the AliceEttinger–Jack R. Dreyfus Endowed Chair inRadiology.

“As we embark on the Sackler Centerrenovations for the campus center and con-tinue to gain momentum in our BeyondBoundaries capital campaign, our top pri-ority is to provide support for deservingstudents,” says Dean Michael Rosenblatt.“Scholarship support such as the Folletts’ isvitally important to attract the best andbrightest students, regardless of their finan-cial resources. Their gift allows our stu-dents to realize their dreams of becomingphysicians who will shape medicine in the21st century.”

David Follett recalls how he came towork with—and befriend—the eminentradiologist. “In my first two years of medicalschool, I won the prize as the top student inmy class,” he says. “By tradition, I wasselected to become, at the end of my thirdyear, the Student Physician, and offered theopportunity to spend four months withDr. Ralph Waldo Emerson Wheeler, profes-sor of microbiology.

“One day a dental student came in. His

BEYOND BOUNDARIES PROVIDING THE MEANS FOR EXCELLENCE

Influence of a teacher and friend by Mark Sullivan

Beloved radiology professor inspires scholarship

David and Sara Follett


urine had turned dark brown, the color ofCoca-Cola, indicating glomerulitis, aninflammation of tubules of the kidney,related to streptococcal infection,” Follettsays. “I ordered the standard X-ray of theurinary tract, but had some question as towhether the procedure should be done,”owing to a possible risk. “I decided to talkto Dr. Ettinger about it. She met with meand reassured me.

“Several weeks later she phoned me. Shesaid, ‘You know I have a very good friend atMass. General, Dr. Dreyfus, who is unable toaccompany me to the Symphony.’ She askedme to fill in and accom-pany her to the BostonSymphony. I became Alice’ssquire. I was then invitedevery month or two.”

The diminutive Ger-man doctor shared a homewith her sister at the end ofthe trolley line in Brook-line. “She came from avery elite intellectual circlein Berlin,” Follett says. “Iwas invited Sundays to her house, whereshe had what the French would call a salon.The attendees included the architect WalterGropius, founder of the Bauhaus school.Jim Watson [discoverer with Francis Crickof DNA] may have been there.

“My mother met Alice, and they becameletter-writing friends. Alice was guest ofhonor at my family’s table at my medicalschool graduation. She was a real memberof the family,” Follett says.

Born in Berlin in 1899, Alice Ettingerstudied medicine at Albert Ludwig Uni-versity in Freiberg, and after advanced train-ing in internal medicine and radiology,worked at Berlin’s Frederick Wilhelm Uni-versity Hospital with Dr. Hans HeinrichBerg, internationally known for his inno-vations in gastrointestinal X-ray techniques.

Arriving in Boston in 1932 to demon-strate Berg’s new spot-film imaging device,she stayed to introduce modern gastroin-testinal radiology to American medicine.She was the first radiologist-in-chief atthe Boston Dispensary and the New Eng-land Medical Center and the first chair ofradiology at Tufts Medical School, where

she taught for 53 years. “She knew moreabout interpreting X-ray film than any 10other radiologists compressed into one,”Dr. Andrew Plaut, ’62, professor of medi-cine, has said.

A German-Jewish immigrant, Ettingeraided others fleeing Nazi persecution inthe 1930s. “She got out of Germany just in

the nick of time,” says Follett. She went onto help a number of refugee doctors findjobs and a place to stay in the United States,and also assisted non-physicians fleeingGermany by serving as their U.S. sponsor.

Her technical contributions to radiologywere substantial. Yet she never forgot theperson behind each X-ray slide, colleaguessay. And teaching was her passion. Alongsidethe gold medals she received from the Radi-ological Society of North America and theAmerican College of Radiology were 13teaching awards voted by her students atTufts.“Alice always looked at radiology as one

of the fundamental teach-ing methods of medicine,”says Follett.“She built radi-ology as a teaching field.Now radiology is integratedinto every aspect of medicalschool teaching.”

Her old symphony-going friend plans to write abooklet about Alice Ettingerand give a copy to each stu-dent who is named a Follett

Scholar. She would have been “tickled” at hissetting up the scholarship fund, Follett says.“She’d probably throw her arms around meand give me a hug.”

Mark Sullivan is editor for AdvancementCommunications. He can be reached [email protected].

Alice Ettinger “built radiologyas a teaching field.

Now radiology is integrated into every aspect of medical

school teaching.”—DAVID FOLLETT, ’58

Alice Ettinger

PROGRESS REPORT

Contributions to Beyond Boundaries: The Campaign for Tufts have

surpassed $907.1 million. Learn more about the $1.2 billion

campaign and its impact at www.tufts.edu/giving.

46 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 PHOTO: JOHN SOARES

he boston campus now has a

comfortable, private area fornursing mothers, thanks to thegenerosity of a longtime friend

of Tufts. Natalie V. Zucker, the widow ofMilton O. Zucker, ’30, gave $50,000 to thedean of the Sackler School of GraduateBiomedical Sciences, Naomi Rosenberg, tosupport women’s initiatives at the school.

“We are supportive of mothers andyoung families, and we want to do every-thing we can to make them feel comfort-able and integrate them back into theirwork, studies or training,” says Rosenberg,the mother of two grown children whomeets a few times a year with other womenin the Tufts community to discuss chal-lenges in the workplace. “We want them tofeel as though they still have the proper bal-ance with family,” she says.

The lactation room is located in theM&V building in the department of molec-ular biology and microbiology. The spaceincludes comfortable furniture, and reno-vations are under way to add soft lighting,a privacy curtain, a washing station forequipment and milk storage facilities.

“I love it. I think it’s just wonderful,”says Zucker, who was a practicing psycholo-gist for 50 years. She visits campus often andrecently met two of thewomen who use the newfacility. “It was so nice tomeet them,” she says. “Theywere ecstatic.”

The Zuckers have beenstalwart supporters of themedical school for morethan two decades, placing special emphasison encouraging and mentoring women inmedicine and the biomedical sciences. Theyendowed the faculty lounge in the SacklerCenter, established a professorship inrheumatology and immunology and cre-ated the first faculty research prize thatrecognized women scientists on the med-ical school campus. After her husband’sdeath in 1995, Natalie Zucker continued

her support of women in medicine. Shecreated the Natalie Zucker Professorshipand the Natalie V. Zucker Research Centerfor Women Scholars to promote opportu-nities for women in research, enhance theirprofessional stature and encourage colle-giality.

“She’s really had a great impact,” saysRosenberg. “Her gifts don’t just send amessage to women faculty; they send a

message to all women who come here. Itgives them great role models.”

Tessa Murray, a postdoctoral student atTufts, is grateful for the new space.“Achievinga balance between work and home, especiallywhile nursing, is tricky,” she says. “Now I cantake care of Gemma’s needs when I’m at work.”

Lauren Katims is a writer for AdvancementCommunications.

BEYOND BOUNDARIES PROVIDING THE MEANS FOR EXCELLENCE

T

“We want them to feel as though they still have the proper

balance with family.” —NAOMI ROSENBERG

tk

Nursing moms get their own spaceby Lauren Katims

Tessa Murray with herdaughter, Gemma

STAYING CONNECTED ALUMNI NEWS

they carry with them as they leave Tuftsand enter the field of medicine.

Your help matters. Because of thegrowth in participation through alumnidues, we have been able to increase ourcontribution to financial aid. We also sup-port other worthy causes brought before theexecutive council by our medical students,including the Sharewood Project, travelexpenses for residency interviews and theDean’s Fund, to name a few. My messagehere is that starting your commitment maybe difficult, but the sooner you start, thesooner you will notice the fruits of yourgenerosity in the lives of our students.

Share with me your thoughts, desiresand wishes as to what your Alumni Asso-ciation can do for you. I urge you to reachout and reconnect with Tufts.

as the incoming president of your alumni

Association, I would like to introduce myself asyour agent of change. One of our most suc-cessful graduates once said that if you see abullfrog sitting on top of a fence post, youknow that he got there with some help! Frommy family physician, Myer Bloom, ’29, inTaunton, Mass., to Edward Gordon, ’47, whoconvinced me of the value of joining the MClub during my first year in private practice(before I had a mortgage or a family to support), I have had Tufts men-tors who shaped my professional life. We all share the common thread ofhaving someone who offered us a helping hand.

Over the past 15 years or so, while serving on the executive commit-tee of the Alumni Association, I have witnessed the great transformationof our medical school. It is not the same institution that we were used to.Tufts students today have a much broader and diverse education that iscomplemented by a growing basic sciences faculty. The enthusiasm ofthese students is infectious. We can only hope that when they learn of ourinterest in their welfare, they will, in turn, develop a sense of duty that

Sowing the seeds

TRAVEL-LEARN TRAVEL-LEARN T R A V E L T O E X T R A O R D I N A R Y P L A C E S W I T H E X C E P T I O N A L P E O P L ET R A V E L T O E X T R A O R D I N A R Y P L A C E S W I T H E X C E P T I O N A L P E O P L E

From the Baltic to Bora Bora, from Greece to Peru, our journeys feature intellectual inquiry with lectures and exploration.

There’s a perfect trip for every taste! Call Usha Sellers, Program Director, at 800-843-2586 for our brochure or visit our

website for itineraries. www.tufts.edu/alumni/ed-travel- learn.htmlwww.tufts.edu/alumni/ed-travel- learn.html

Available ONLINE:

our exciting new line-up of 2009 destinations!

Available ONLINE:

our exciting new line-up of 2009 destinations!


david wong, ’87

[email protected]


ALUMNI UPDATE CLASS NOTES

48 Arthur Bramble ofWare, Mass., has been

retired from his family practicefor the past 20 years andspends his free time travelingand volunteering. He had beenaffiliated with Baystate MaryLane Hospital in Ware and MercyHospital in Springfield, Mass.

Margaret Hopkins Hanniganof York, Maine, a dermatologist,is retired from the Central MaineMedical Center in Lewiston andsavoring her free time. Shenotes that her admittance toTufts in the summer of 1944enabled her to fulfill a lifetimeambition to become a doctor and help people. Hannigan wasone of just six women in herclass. Her favorite medicalschool memory, she says, was meeting her “lifetime partner and classmate” Charles Hannigan, an internal medicinespecialist who died in 1994.

David Warren of VirginiaBeach, Va., enjoys walking the beaches near home, volunteering, playing bridge and the company of his 11 grandchildren. He reports that he has vivid memories of V-J Day in 1945.

53 Lawrence McCartinof Lowell, Mass.,

performed his first obstetricdelivery at Waltham Hospitalduring his senior year some 55 years ago. Still active in family practice, he estimates he has delivered 5,000 babiessince then. McCartin is retiredfrom his positions as medicalexaminer in northern MiddlesexCounty and director of theLowell Health Department.

58 Harry Bird of Hanover,N.H., is professor of

anesthesiology emeritus atDartmouth Medical School.

He is a past president of theAmerican Society of Anesthes-iologists. Bird and his wife,Carolyn, have a daughter,Suzanne; a son, Steven; and four grandchildren.

Edward Connolly of Weston,Mass., has fond memories of watching Hal Rheinlander operate in the surgical amphi-theater at NEMC when he wasin medical school. “We laterbecame friends and reminiscedabout our many ski trips toEurope,” he writes. These daysConnolly spends his free timeskiing in New Hampshire andout West, playing golf, tennisand bridge and attending Elderhostel programs.

William Fisher Jr. of Wood-bury, Conn., a retired orthopedic surgeon, spends half the year in Vergennes, Vt. For a careerhighlight, he singles out graduation day. “It was a realprivilege to graduate in the presence of my parents,” hesays. “My dad [William Fisher,’28] was a graduate of TuftsMedical School. Later, they sawme inducted into the American College of Surgeons, where my dad was also a fellow.”

Helen Fox Krause of Gibsonia, Pa., earned a rare dis-tinction a few years ago. In 2005, an allergy clinic in thedepartment of otolaryngology at the University of PittsburghSchool of Medicine, where she has taught for many years, was named in her honor.

Andre Paradis of Andover,Mass., a pediatric ophthalmol-ogist, enjoyed sailing modelyachts back in the day. Whatwould he have changed aboutmedical school? Two words: Posner Hall. Even so, Paradiscredits Tufts with giving him a“good work ethic and instilling a sense of responsibility to

the local community.”Everett Webber of West

Lebanon, N.H., is retired fromhis duties as a general surgeonat a clutch of hospitals inLebanon, Concord and Franklin,N.H. He now finds time for watercolor painting, stone sculpting and birding activities.

63 Calvin Clark ofVancouver, Wash., who

retired as a pediatrician in 2001,says gardening is his “catharsis”these days. When not fertilizinghis flower beds or deadheadinghis blooms, Clark stays happyhiking, fishing, playing tennis or visiting his vacation home in central Oregon with his wife,Arlene. “Come on out to theNorthwest!” he entreats hisclassmates.

Herbert Dean of Worcester,Mass., works as an oncologyconsultant to several insurancecompanies, is the medical director of a successful biotechcompany (Verex Biomedical) and volunteers weekly at a freeclinic. Previously, he was division director of hematology/oncology at the Fallon Clinic andpresident of the Fallon Commu-nity Health Plan.

Leslie Silverstein of WellesleyHills, Mass., has a thoughtabout what he might havechanged about the medicalschool curriculum, if it were upto him: “added classes on theeconomics of medicine and how to establish a practice.”Still, he appreciates the broad-scope approach to medicine hesays he got at Tufts. Silversteinserved as chief of otolaryngolo-gy at Norwood Hospital from1970 to 2000.

68 William Carey of ShakerHeights, Ohio, a profes-

sor of medicine at the Cleveland

Clinic and a past president ofthe American College ofGastroenterology, was editor-in-chief of a new textbook of medi-cine published this summer. Heand his wife, Mary Elizabeth,have three children, William,Michael and Emily.

G. Richard Dundas of Bennington, Vt., recently retiredas an internal medicine special-ist. He had been affiliated withthe Southwestern Vermont Medical Center in Bennington.

Stanley Friedman of NorthHaven, Conn., sounds like he’shaving some fun these days. He plays drums in a rock bandand teaches religious mysticismin his spare time. Friedman is an assistant clinical professor of surgery at Yale UniversitySchool of Medicine.

Mark Goldschmidt of Clearwater, Fla., retired from pediatrics in 2005. Eight months later, he walked into a supermarket, encountered someone with a full C-R arrestand successfully resuscitatedthe person—an intervention hecounts as his proudest medicalaccomplishment. Goldschmidtsays that he and his wife, Helen, are still happily married,and he wishes she would retirefrom her job as a librarian sothey could travel more.

William Trought of Dorches-ter, N.H., is an assistant professor of diagnostic radiologyat Dartmouth Medical School.Among the faculty he cites as big influences from his TuftsMedical School days are DonaldDarling and Alice Ettinger.

Jeffrey Sol of Kailua, Hawaii, practices cardiologywhen he’s not paddling his outrigger canoe or out on thetennis court. “Let me know ifyou come to Hawaii,” he tellshis classmates.


Michael Zack of Lexington,Mass., owes a debt to Tufts. “By seating us alphabetically, the school allowed me to sitnext to John Zawacki, whoexplained to me everything I didn’t understand, which wasmostly everything,” he says.Zack practices pulmonary andinternal medicine. He and hiswife, Christine, have three chil-dren and one grandchild, Sofia.

73 David Blecker ofMargate City, N.J.,

a nephrologist, was one of six physicians from the medicalstaff at Shore MemorialHospital in Somers Point, N.J.,to be named among theregion’s best by Philadelphiamagazine. He practices atRegional Nephrology Associates in Northfield, N.J.

78 Nancy Adams ofBoston is the medical

director of Beth Israel Deacon-ess–Chelsea in Chelsea, Mass.,where she practices primary care. When she’s notdrowning in paperwork, sheenjoys reading, walking andtraveling on vacation with herhusband, John, an attorney.

Barbara DeRiso of Pitts-burgh, Pa., retired last year from anesthesiology and soundsthe better for it. She writes:“Doing some traveling—Italy’s a favorite—and indulging insome ongoing education, studying astronomy, Renais-sance art and history, trying tospeak Italian better than a not-too-bright two-year-old might.If anyone from the Class of ’78 finds themselves passingthrough Pittsburgh, please

give me a call. Would love tosee you.” DeRiso has some personal advice for friends andclassmates: “Set your financialgoals, and when you reachthem, kick back. It’s wonderful.And we’ve earned it.”

John Gallagher of Lyme,N.H., is a professor of anesthe-siology at Dartmouth–HitchcockMedical Center in Lebanon, N.H.

Stephen Landaker of Chico,Calif., practices orthopedic surgery, specializing in foot and ankle injuries. He served in the U.S. Navy for 11 years,including three years as a flightsurgeon with the Marine Corps.Landaker is proud of “givingpeople the ability to walk andfunction and pursue their goalsand aspirations.” He and hiswife, Lorraine, have two daugh-ters, Mary, 17, and Anne, 15.

Kathleen O’Neil of OklahomaCity, Okla., devotes herself topediatric rheumatology in theheartland, where she works atthe University of OklahomaHealth Sciences Center. She and her husband, Thomas, also a pediatrician, have threechildren. “I spend time with myfamily, and still have a son inhigh school,” she says. “Weattend his sports activities, and I work in the yard.” O’Neilhas published extensively in herfield.

John Shellito of Wichita,Kan., is a vascular surgeon who teaches at the University of Kansas School of Medicine–Wichita. He and his wife, Mary, an attorney, have two daughters, Allison, 19, andNatalie, 17.

80 Donald Driscoll Jr.of Concord, Mass., was

elected to the board of directorsof Emerson Hospital in Concord.He is the president-elect of the

Emerson medical staff and an orthopedic surgeon. He hasbeen a member of the hospitalstaff since June 1986 and hasserved as chief of orthopedicsand chair of the department of surgery.

81Michael Collins wasnamed chancellor of

the University of MassachusettsMedical School campus inAugust. He had been interimchancellor and the senior vicepresident for health sciences.He is the former chancellor ofthe University of Massachusettsat Boston and a past presidentand CEO of the Caritas ChristiHealth Care System.

83 Bruce Dezube ofNewton Center, Mass.,

cites Dr. Jack Mitus as a pivotalfigure in his medical training,steering him toward hematologyat just the right moment.Several decades later, Dezubeis an associate professor ofmedicine in hematology/oncol-ogy at Beth Israel DeaconessMedical Center in Boston,where he directs the AIDSMalignancy Research andTreatment Center and where hehas also served as a trustee.

86 Douglas Ford of FortLauderdale, Fla., was

named one of the two most valuable physicians at NorthBroward Medical Center inDeerfield Beach for the secondquarter of 2008. An anesthesi-ologist, Ford has been head ofthe department of surgery fortwo years and a member of the hospital’s staff since 1990. He was nominated for mostvaluable physician after havingnoticed that a colleague did notlook well and urging the man to seek medical attention, an

FILL US IN ON YOUR NEWSHave a new job? A special project or appointment? Is your family growing? Have you been getting together with classmates? Keep your fellow alumni/ae posted by dropping us a line.

Name

Class

Street

City State Zip

E-mail address

Check here if address is new.

Send to:

Tufts Medical Alumni Relations,

136 Harrison Avenue, Boston, MA 02111

or e-mail [email protected]

CLASS NOTES DEADLINE FOR NEXT ISSUE IS NOVEMBER 3, 2008

action that may have savedthe doctor’s life.

88 Mary Ashkenaze ofLaguna Niguel, Calif.,

is an emergency medicine specialist at South CoastMedical Center in LagunaBeach. She and her husband,David, an orthopedic surgeon,have two children, Kerry, 8, and Joshua, 4. “A special hello to my former roommateBernadette Martin and friendsLiz Wilson, Robin Disler, PhuHo, Jon Thyng and TomPranikoff,” writes Ashkenaze.“California life is great!”

Terry Huff of Mesa, Ariz.,was recently named one ofthe “Top Docs” in the region by Phoenix magazine. He isan ob/gyn specialist based in Mesa.

Clifton Yu of Alexandria, Va.,works as a pediatrician at WalterReed Army Medical Center inWashington, D.C. He asksfriends to look him up if they’rein the D.C. area. He and hiswife, Cecilia, have two children,Alyssa, 7, and Christopher, 5.

93 Laszlo Madaras ofGreencastle, Pa., has

taken his medical skills abroadrepeatedly since graduation,including extended stays inZaire and Hungary in 1994 and1995. This spring, he taughtBaylor and Hopkins studentsabout international health at aschool in Honduras. Otherwise,he says he stays busy drivinghis teenage daughters to theirballet lessons and track meetsand training for Ironmantriathlons.

96 James and MargaretOberman of Okinawa,

Japan, wrote to say they havebeen thoroughly enjoying their

“island life.” In 2006, Meg completed 10 years of activeduty service with the U.S. Navy,working as an internist at theNaval Medical Center inPortsmouth, Va. There, sheserved as the youngest transi-tional program director in Navyhistory. Meg was inducted as afellow of the American Collegeof Physicians in 2005, one ofonly a handful of people in their 30s to receive the honor.She is temporarily a stay-at-home mom. After a tour of duty as a Navy diving medicalofficer, Jamie completed resi-dency training in otolaryngologyin 2006. He passed his boards in 2007 and now serves as the department head of oto-laryngology at the U.S. navalhospital in Okinawa. Meg andJames are the proud parents of Connell, 8, Aidan, 4, andBridget, 2. Since their move toJapan in 2006, the Obermanshave traveled to Hong Kong,Thailand and Cambodia.

98 Allyson Ocean of NewYork City specializes

in hematology/medical oncology.She looks back fondly on therotation she did as a student inBarcelona, Spain, and encour-ages today’s students to followsuit. She writes: “Take time toexplore medical opportunitiesoutside of Tufts—travel!” Herson, Jordan, turned one in June.

03 Marnie Burkman ofBoulder, Colo., is a

staff psychiatrist with theDepartment of Veterans Affairs–Eastern Colorado Health CareSystem. She also maintains aprivate practice. Burkham saysshe is most proud of “develop-ing therapeutic relationshipswhere patients can feel safe and are inspired to heal.”

ALUMNI UPDATE CLASS NOTES & OBITUARIES


IN MEMORIAM

Jesse E. Edwards, A32, M35,of Rochester, Minn., died onMay 18 at age 96. After gradu-ating from Tufts MedicalSchool, he did his training atthe Mallory Institute of Pathol-ogy at Boston City Hospitaland at Albany Hospital in NewYork. He was a research fellowat the National Cancer Institutefrom 1940 to 1942. He servedas commander-in-chief of theCentral Medical Laboratoriesof the European theater duringWorld War II and was part of awar crimes team that went intoDachau three days followingthe Allied liberation. A pioneerin the study of heart disease,he served on the Mayo Clinicstaff for 14 years before leav-ing in 1960 for the Charles T.Miller Hospital and the Univer-sity of Minnesota. He was apast president of the AmericanHeart Association. A cardiacpathologist, he established acollection of more than 22,000hearts that physicians fromaround the world sent to himto study. The collection nowforms the internationalresource known as the JesseE. Edwards Registry of Cardio-vascular Disease at UnitedHospital in St. Paul, Minn. Dur-ing his long career, he coau-thored nearly 800 journalarticles and 16 books, includ-ing the three-volume Atlas ofAcquired Diseases of theHeart and Great Vessels andthe companion two-volumeCongenital Heart Disease,both landmark publications incardiology. After suffering astroke at age 84, he continuedto work and teach, coauthoredtwo more medical textbooksand was at work on a third atthe time of his death.

Veva Zimmerman, ’62, of Sheffield, Vt., died on January 31 at age 70. She was a professor of psychiatry at New York University School of Medicineuntil her retirement in 2002.She had also served as a special advisor to the dean on minority affairs and anassociate dean for studentaffairs. Zimmerman was oneof five women in the Class of1962 and came from a celebrated family. Her fatherwas one of the few earlyAfrican-American surgeons andachieved great prominence in St. Louis, where she wasraised. Her brother, HenryHampton, was a documentaryfilm producer responsible forcreating “Eyes on the Prize,”which told the story of the struggle for civil rights amongblacks in the American South. Zimmerman was responsiblefor keeping the film availablefor viewing after her brother’sdeath. She is survived by herhusband, David; two sons,Jacob and Tobias; and twograndsons.

FACULTY & STAFFEugene Foster ofCharlottesville, Va., who taughtpathology at Tufts from 1976

to 1990,died July 21at age 81. Foster drewfame in thelate 1990sfor orches-

trating sophisticated DNA teststhat determined Thomas Jefferson was likely, if not cer-tain, to have fathered childrenby the slave Sally Hemings. Heis survived by Jane, his wife of


HAROLD (“HAL”) RHEINLANDER OF WESTON, MASS., A PROFESSOR OF

cardiothoracic surgery emeritus, died on April 29 at age 88.Hired in 1949 as the first full-time surgeon on the New EnglandMedical Center payroll, he had worked and taught at Tufts fornearly 60 years.

Rheinlander was born in Ashland, Maine, and attended theUniversity of Maine at Orono before entering Harvard MedicalSchool. He completed two years of surgical trainingat Brigham & Women’s Hospital before being draftedinto the Air Force Medical Corps. At age 27, he wasnamed assistant chief of surgery at Maxwell AirForce Base in Montgomery, Ala. After military serv-ice, he returned to Boston and signed on with C.Stuart Welch, ’32, chair of surgery at NEMC. Therehe participated in the development of cardiac sur-gery from its infancy. Rheinlander set up the firstheart-lung machine at Tufts. He performed the firstopen-heart surgery here and the first valve replace-ment operation. In the 1950s, he earned a measure of fame by performing 100 consecutive closed mitral valve operations without a patient death.

“Boston is full of pioneers, and many of them are tirelessself-promoters,” a colleague told Tufts Medicine in 2004.“Hal was never that way. He may not have been the first in thenation to do some of these things, but he wasn’t far behind.What set him apart was the great way he did it all without brag-ging.” Rheinlander was never happier than when he was in theoperating room. But he also savored time spent with patients’

families, often lingering to talk to family members long after he had completed his rounds.

Brian Gilchrist, ’84, chief of pediatric surgery, describesRheinlander as having been “Lincolnesque” when he encoun-tered him as a student on surgery rotation. “He was the ultimate reconciler,” says Gilchrist. “He taught that we’re all inthis for the same purpose—to take care of patients.”

Rheinlander laid down his scalpel in 1984, at age65, having performed approximately 200 surgeries a year for 40 years. For the next two decades he oversaw student surgical education at the medicalschool, ensuring consistent curricular standards andgrading across the seven Tufts-affiliated sites wheresurgery is taught. William Mackey, chief of surgery atTufts Medical Center and chair of the department ofsurgery at the medical school, has jokingly called himthe “statistical guru” for the educational program.

Until health problems intervened in 2004, Rheinlander and his wife were avid skiers, visiting the Europeanslopes annually. They also sailed the eastern seaboard andparticipated in ocean races until, as the captain put it recently,“my crew grew up.”

Rheinlander is survived by Eleanor, his wife of 66 years;three daughters, Karen, Gail and Kim; and two grandchildren,Kari and Peter. Readers interested in making a contribution inRheinlander’s memory to support student scholarships at themedical school should contact Joshua Young at 617.636.3604or [email protected].

Hal Rheinlander

SURGEON, TEACHER AND PIONEER

56 years, two daughtersand four grandchildren.

Joseph Perry of Malden,Mass., manager of the medical school’s Office of

InformationTechnology(OIT), diedon February21 after athree-yearstruggle with

melanoma. He was 44. For 20 years Perry played a key

role in technology planning, development and managementfor the medical school, theBoston campus and the university. Warm, personable,funny and quick to sympathize,he had a knack for making colleagues into close, lastingfriends. Colleagues say hewas the kind of coworker whomade people look forward tocoming into the office.

Perry began his career atTufts in 1988 as a computer

support specialist in thedepartment of anatomy andcellular biology, where hehelped foster the early adop-tion of computers. He helpedestablish and support the Multimedia Resource Center,which opened in 1994. Threeyears later, he joined the OIT as assistant manager,becoming manager in 2000.He worked easily across orga-nizational boundaries, develop-ing close working relationships

with the staff and leadershipof Tufts’ schools and centraladministrative units. Many ofthe improvements in the medical school’s infrastructurein recent years are a directresult of his dedication.

He is survived by hisfiancee, Anita, and by his children, Colin and Brianna. A celebration of Perry’s lifeand service to the medicalschool was held June 4 on theBoston campus (see p. 35).

52 t u f t s m e d i c i n e s u m m e r 2 0 0 8 COURTESY PHOTO

in the military, there is a process of analysis following

a military initiative called an “after action report.” I wrote along one after my experiences providing medical care in aforwardly placed field hospital in Saudi Arabia during thefirst Gulf war. Now that I am dusting myself off after a run asa Democratic candidate for the U.S. Congress from Maine’sFirst Congressional District, it’s time for another.

My education at Tufts Medical School was paid for by ascholarship from the U.S. Navy, and after I left active duty, myfamily and I moved to Maine in 1996. I joined a group prac-tice in Augusta, and while working as a pediatrician, I helpedto write grants which resulted in more than $2.5 million infunding to improve the quality of health care in the region.I was making a difference. So why would I run for office?

Last September, I saw a 12-year-old boy in my office who was hyper-active and complaining of stomachaches, headaches and difficultysleeping. He had had similar symptoms 18 months earlier, while hisfather was deployed to Iraq. Of course, the symptoms recurred when helearned that his father would be returning to Iraq for another 15-month tour. That hit home for me.

Soon afterward, it was reported that Maine would lose more than $200million in federal money for Medicaid. That withdrawal of federal fund-ing would translate into cuts in foster care, our immunization program andin programs designed to prevent domestic violence. Maine’s veteranswere struggling to get access to their benefits, and programs for returningveterans were poorly coordinated and VA care was lacking. Looking at theslate of congressional candidates in Maine, I found the usual group oflawyers, lobbyists and former state politicians. How were they qualified toaddress the issues important to the people I was caring for?

It was October and already late in the race as I embarked on a tour ofthe First Congressional District, where the other seven candidates and Idebated the issues. I learned to say three things about myself and threethings about my motivation for running for office in less than oneminute. Over the next eight months, I appeared at more than 60 venuesfrom Kittery to Camden along the coast, and inland to the lakes regionin Belgrade and Bridgton.

At the end of February, at the behest of the director of the MaineMedical Association, I spent three intense days at the American MedicalAssociation’s Campaign School in Washington, D.C. This course taughtme to look at a political campaign as a marketing project, with the can-didate as the product. One important lesson was the huge price tag. Suc-cessful primary campaigns in small markets like Maine usually cost$500,000 to win, and another $2 million on top of that to win the gen-eral election in November.

To hire a professional campaign team, I had to raise money. In March,I met with a Washington Medical Political Action Committee, and was told

My late political campaignby Stephen Meister, ’84

that if I had support from mystate medical association, thePACs would come through. Iwrote a letter to every doctorand dentist in the state, asking forcontributions, and receivedendorsements from physiciansaround the state, but moneytrickled. The Maine MedicalAssociation held a debate in mid-May, and I won the endorse-ment; unfortunately, it came solate in the campaign that I was

unable to translate the win into the level offunding that was needed. I’d raised just$110,000. The top three candidates had morethan $750,000 each. Another lesson: earlymoney is like yeast; it grows and grows. Latemoney helps to pay off debts.

Our race received a great deal of mediainterest, and my supporters cheered as Itook on the other candidates at debatesbroadcast on the NBC and CBS affiliatesand by Maine Public Broadcasting. A cam-paign high was hearing a political punditdeclare me the winner of the public broad-casting debate, but the highs of politics areaccompanied by lows. We won many battles,but I came in dead last on Election Day.Boy, did that sting.

It has been an honor to run for this office.Political campaigns take commitment andsacrifice on the part of everyone involved,but we were rewarded by the people we metalong the way and the respect I was accordedby the other candidates, the press and voters.To any physician considering a run for pub-lic office, I’d say first, take the AMA candi-date course—they’ll show you what youneed to be successful. Build a team, be real-istic in assessing how much money you willneed, hire a professional campaign man-ager, articulate a clear and coherent messageand get out there and make a difference.The experience of the campaign is wellworth the effort.

ESSAY

There’s rarely a quiet moment in the McCarthy home, which is full of

laughter and love. It’s also filled with the energy of four boys: Brendan,

Jr., twins Ryan and Connor, and Devon. When he’s not at the Little League field

alongside his wife, Heather, Brendan is vice chairman of the Department

of Ophthalmology at Lahey Clinic Medical Center, where he also serves

as the local program director for Tufts ophthalmology residents.

&Ahead

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FAR AFIELDGrowing up, Latrice Goosby Landry wondered

why so many of her relatives suffered from persistent health problems. Might it somehow be

related to what they ate? Landry has headed southto find out. Our story begins on page 21.

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