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A Brooklyn Hospital Mourns the Doctor Who Was ‘Our Jay-Z’ | A Brooklyn Hospital Mourns the Doctor Who Was ‘Our Jay-Z’ |
(32 minutes later) | |
In the first weeks after the coronavirus pandemic hit New York, Dr. James A. Mahoney barely slept. | In the first weeks after the coronavirus pandemic hit New York, Dr. James A. Mahoney barely slept. |
When he was not working his day shifts at an intensive care unit at University Hospital of Brooklyn, he was working nights across the street at Kings County Hospital Center. When he was not at a hospital, he was conducting telemedicine sessions with his regular patients from home, making sure they were wearing masks and washing their hands. | When he was not working his day shifts at an intensive care unit at University Hospital of Brooklyn, he was working nights across the street at Kings County Hospital Center. When he was not at a hospital, he was conducting telemedicine sessions with his regular patients from home, making sure they were wearing masks and washing their hands. |
He would run from crashing patient to crashing patient, always at the bedside where it was most dangerous. He rushed in to help when his boss, Dr. Robert F. Foronjy, was struggling with a patient sick with the virus, doing chest compressions and switching out a blocked endotracheal tube. Then he was off again. | He would run from crashing patient to crashing patient, always at the bedside where it was most dangerous. He rushed in to help when his boss, Dr. Robert F. Foronjy, was struggling with a patient sick with the virus, doing chest compressions and switching out a blocked endotracheal tube. Then he was off again. |
“There were people who were really reluctant to go into the rooms, and you could understand why,” Dr. Foronjy said. “He saw another human being in need, and he didn’t hesitate to help.” | “There were people who were really reluctant to go into the rooms, and you could understand why,” Dr. Foronjy said. “He saw another human being in need, and he didn’t hesitate to help.” |
After nearly 40 years as a physician, Dr. Mahoney, 62, could have retired. Others his age, including his older brother, also a doctor, stopped seeing hospital patients as the pandemic loomed, worried that age or health issues put them in greater danger than younger colleagues. | After nearly 40 years as a physician, Dr. Mahoney, 62, could have retired. Others his age, including his older brother, also a doctor, stopped seeing hospital patients as the pandemic loomed, worried that age or health issues put them in greater danger than younger colleagues. |
Friends, family and fellow physicians begged Dr. Mahoney to do the same. He had been on the front lines for AIDS, the crack epidemic, the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, Hurricane Sandy. Why not skip this one, they asked. Take a break, save yourself. | Friends, family and fellow physicians begged Dr. Mahoney to do the same. He had been on the front lines for AIDS, the crack epidemic, the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, Hurricane Sandy. Why not skip this one, they asked. Take a break, save yourself. |
He would not do it. Dr. Mahoney belonged on the floor, and that is where he would stay, until the end. On April 27, he succumbed to the virus he had fought so vigorously. | He would not do it. Dr. Mahoney belonged on the floor, and that is where he would stay, until the end. On April 27, he succumbed to the virus he had fought so vigorously. |
The pandemic has devastated the ranks of New York’s health care workers. While the city has not released comprehensive data on infection and mortality rates among hospital staffers, doctors and nurses have said there were times during the surge last month when hundreds were out sick. The head nurse at Kings County Hospital’s emergency room, Maria Guia Cabillon, died just a day before Dr. Mahoney. | The pandemic has devastated the ranks of New York’s health care workers. While the city has not released comprehensive data on infection and mortality rates among hospital staffers, doctors and nurses have said there were times during the surge last month when hundreds were out sick. The head nurse at Kings County Hospital’s emergency room, Maria Guia Cabillon, died just a day before Dr. Mahoney. |
Numbers alone cannot convey the full extent of the loss when doctors, nurses and paramedics die from Covid-19, the disease caused by the novel coronavirus. | Numbers alone cannot convey the full extent of the loss when doctors, nurses and paramedics die from Covid-19, the disease caused by the novel coronavirus. |
“One of the sad stories of this pandemic is that we’re losing people that we couldn’t afford to lose,” Dr. Foronjy said. | “One of the sad stories of this pandemic is that we’re losing people that we couldn’t afford to lose,” Dr. Foronjy said. |
For a place like University Hospital, a chronically underfunded state-run institution that serves a mostly poor, black Brooklyn community, the loss of Dr. Mahoney was shattering. He started as a student at the hospital’s teaching college in 1982 and never left. He rose to become a pulmonary and critical care physician and a professor at the same college, which is part of the State University of New York system. | For a place like University Hospital, a chronically underfunded state-run institution that serves a mostly poor, black Brooklyn community, the loss of Dr. Mahoney was shattering. He started as a student at the hospital’s teaching college in 1982 and never left. He rose to become a pulmonary and critical care physician and a professor at the same college, which is part of the State University of New York system. |
For students, particularly black ones, he was a legend. | For students, particularly black ones, he was a legend. |
“As a young black man, I looked at this guy and said to myself, ‘Twenty years from now I want to be like him,’” said Latif A. Salam, who is now a doctor who works in internal medicine at University Hospital. “When a black medical student, a black resident sees him, he sees a hero. Someone that you can be one day. He’s our Jay-Z.” | “As a young black man, I looked at this guy and said to myself, ‘Twenty years from now I want to be like him,’” said Latif A. Salam, who is now a doctor who works in internal medicine at University Hospital. “When a black medical student, a black resident sees him, he sees a hero. Someone that you can be one day. He’s our Jay-Z.” |
Though he was raised by a military father and spent his childhood on Air Force bases, Dr. Mahoney had no patience for the strict hierarchy of the hospital. He preferred eating lunch with his nurses or assistants, and once chided his sister for reserving all the best tables at one of his birthday parties for physicians. Each year, he used his own money for Christmas bonuses he gave to all of his staff. | Though he was raised by a military father and spent his childhood on Air Force bases, Dr. Mahoney had no patience for the strict hierarchy of the hospital. He preferred eating lunch with his nurses or assistants, and once chided his sister for reserving all the best tables at one of his birthday parties for physicians. Each year, he used his own money for Christmas bonuses he gave to all of his staff. |
To his friends, he was known as Charlie, a nickname one of his father’s buddies gave him as a child. He was a large, intimidating man to look at, but would always crack a joke to put people at ease. Residents, typically fearful of approaching senior physicians with rookie questions, had no problems coming to Dr. Mahoney. | To his friends, he was known as Charlie, a nickname one of his father’s buddies gave him as a child. He was a large, intimidating man to look at, but would always crack a joke to put people at ease. Residents, typically fearful of approaching senior physicians with rookie questions, had no problems coming to Dr. Mahoney. |
Dr. Julien J. Cavanagh said on one of his first nights as a resident, he was anxious about summoning Dr. Mahoney at 3 a.m. for help with a young stroke victim. Most senior physicians would have dismissed their subordinates and finished the procedure themselves, he said. | Dr. Julien J. Cavanagh said on one of his first nights as a resident, he was anxious about summoning Dr. Mahoney at 3 a.m. for help with a young stroke victim. Most senior physicians would have dismissed their subordinates and finished the procedure themselves, he said. |
“He never gave up on us,” Dr. Cavanagh said. “He kept telling us what to do. Teaching us a few tricks with the ultrasound. He stayed there telling us what to do until we got it done. I thought this was remarkable.” | “He never gave up on us,” Dr. Cavanagh said. “He kept telling us what to do. Teaching us a few tricks with the ultrasound. He stayed there telling us what to do until we got it done. I thought this was remarkable.” |
Black doctors are still uncommon enough that Dr. Mahoney would sometimes be mistaken for someone else. Even when he was a senior physician, residents would sometimes contradict him, a huge breach of protocol. Once, another doctor, mistaking him for a local resident in Brooklyn, admonished him for parking in the physicians’ lot. Such slights rankled him, friends and colleagues said. | Black doctors are still uncommon enough that Dr. Mahoney would sometimes be mistaken for someone else. Even when he was a senior physician, residents would sometimes contradict him, a huge breach of protocol. Once, another doctor, mistaking him for a local resident in Brooklyn, admonished him for parking in the physicians’ lot. Such slights rankled him, friends and colleagues said. |
His patients, though, adored him, colleagues said. He gave them his pager number and his cellphone number. If patients were too sick or too busy to come to the hospital for routine checkups, he would make house calls. Even after he got sick, he would call longtime patients to monitor them, said Michelle King, who was his officer manager for two decades. | His patients, though, adored him, colleagues said. He gave them his pager number and his cellphone number. If patients were too sick or too busy to come to the hospital for routine checkups, he would make house calls. Even after he got sick, he would call longtime patients to monitor them, said Michelle King, who was his officer manager for two decades. |
“Not only did he heal people’s bodies,” Ms. King said, “he healed their minds and their souls.” | “Not only did he heal people’s bodies,” Ms. King said, “he healed their minds and their souls.” |
On the rare occasions that he took time off, he and his three children would often join his two brothers and two sisters on cruises in the tropics. He and his wife divorced about a decade ago. | On the rare occasions that he took time off, he and his three children would often join his two brothers and two sisters on cruises in the tropics. He and his wife divorced about a decade ago. |
Updated July 16, 2020 | |
His brother, Dr. Melvin Mahoney, was five years older but said he looked up to his younger sibling. “Any problems I had with my patients I’d bring to him,” he said. “He’s very patient, in contrast with me. I will bend over backwards for the patients, but he had another gear.” | His brother, Dr. Melvin Mahoney, was five years older but said he looked up to his younger sibling. “Any problems I had with my patients I’d bring to him,” he said. “He’s very patient, in contrast with me. I will bend over backwards for the patients, but he had another gear.” |
When reports about the new coronavirus began to circulate among doctors, everyone knew it would be bad. Dr. Melvin Mahoney, who had retired in 2014 but was still seeing patients, decided it was time to leave. | When reports about the new coronavirus began to circulate among doctors, everyone knew it would be bad. Dr. Melvin Mahoney, who had retired in 2014 but was still seeing patients, decided it was time to leave. |
His brother, he said, refused: “He worked on the front lines to the end.” | His brother, he said, refused: “He worked on the front lines to the end.” |
It was the second week of April, the height of the surge in New York City, when Dr. Mahoney sent a text to his boss with the news that he had a fever. | It was the second week of April, the height of the surge in New York City, when Dr. Mahoney sent a text to his boss with the news that he had a fever. |
“I was very concerned right from the beginning,” Dr. Foronjy said. “He and I knew how serious this was. We were just kind of hoping against hope.” | “I was very concerned right from the beginning,” Dr. Foronjy said. “He and I knew how serious this was. We were just kind of hoping against hope.” |
Dr. Mahoney fared well initially and continued to consult with patients while isolating at home. His condition worsened after Easter. He began to have difficulty breathing. By the time he decided to come into University Hospital’s emergency room, on April 20, he could barely walk. | Dr. Mahoney fared well initially and continued to consult with patients while isolating at home. His condition worsened after Easter. He began to have difficulty breathing. By the time he decided to come into University Hospital’s emergency room, on April 20, he could barely walk. |
What makes the coronavirus pandemic especially heartbreaking is that most of its victims die alone. To limit the spread of the disease, all visitors are barred from entering hospitals. Families rarely get to say goodbye. | What makes the coronavirus pandemic especially heartbreaking is that most of its victims die alone. To limit the spread of the disease, all visitors are barred from entering hospitals. Families rarely get to say goodbye. |
Dr. Mahoney spent the last week of his life surrounded by people he cared for in the hospital where he had spent most of his adult life. Propped up on his bed, a large oxygen mask obscuring his toothy smile, he would greet a stream of well-wishers. Ms. King, his assistant, stopped by. So did Dr. Cavanagh, now the chief resident for neurology at University Hospital. | Dr. Mahoney spent the last week of his life surrounded by people he cared for in the hospital where he had spent most of his adult life. Propped up on his bed, a large oxygen mask obscuring his toothy smile, he would greet a stream of well-wishers. Ms. King, his assistant, stopped by. So did Dr. Cavanagh, now the chief resident for neurology at University Hospital. |
He always insisted that he was feeling better. | He always insisted that he was feeling better. |
“I got to visit him, hold his hand,” Dr. Foronjy said. “And he knew how much I loved him. And he knew how much everyone here loved him. We said a lot of things that week that needed to be said.” | “I got to visit him, hold his hand,” Dr. Foronjy said. “And he knew how much I loved him. And he knew how much everyone here loved him. We said a lot of things that week that needed to be said.” |
By the following Sunday, Dr. Mahoney was crashing. | By the following Sunday, Dr. Mahoney was crashing. |
In a desperate effort to save his life, his colleagues loaded him onto an ambulance and rushed him to Tisch Hospital, a wealthier institution with a sophisticated blood oxygenation machine that University Hospital did not possess. | In a desperate effort to save his life, his colleagues loaded him onto an ambulance and rushed him to Tisch Hospital, a wealthier institution with a sophisticated blood oxygenation machine that University Hospital did not possess. |
Five colleagues, a kind of honor guard, followed the ambulance as it rode from Brooklyn to Manhattan. They escorted him to the hospital and were with him, at his bedside, when he died. | Five colleagues, a kind of honor guard, followed the ambulance as it rode from Brooklyn to Manhattan. They escorted him to the hospital and were with him, at his bedside, when he died. |