Eulogy for Dr. Abraham Sunshine, delivered on January 4, 2007 by his associate Mitchell Charap, M.D., Abraham Sunshine Associate Professor of Clinical Medicine, Division of General Internal Medicine
Abraham Sunshine, MD
Just over twelve years ago, I was appointed the first Abraham Sunshine Associate Professor of Clinical Medicine at New York University School of Medicine. That position, one that I still hold, transformed my professional life. It enabled me to devote myself to teaching clinical medicine without the added burdens of fulltime practice and administration. Clearly, I owe a great deal to Al Sunshine’s generosity.
I was aware of Al’s reputation as one of NYU’s great internists, but it was not until my appointment that I got to know and appreciate him. Al was always gracious and supportive of my work. Although the discussions focused on my goals, I came to understand why he was regarded so highly. Al was a thoughtful clinician who had a great love for the field; his patients adored him because he understood both the science and the psychology of caring for them.
It was during these conversations that I saw how multifaceted he was. I learned about hospital politics and conducting clinical trials, but I also learned about patents, lawyers, and the pharmaceutical industry. I learned about the art world and the art of philanthropy.
Over the years my wife and I have spent many evenings with Al and Diane both at their home and at School of Medicine events. Despite severe illness and increasing disability, Al never failed to ask about our lives, personal and professional, and was genuinely interested in them.
I was always struck by Al’s view of his own illnesses. When asked about them, he would respond, in matter of a fact manner, by detailing how he was being treated, with whom he was consulting, and what the possible outcomes were. I am convinced that this realistic, determined and yet steadfastedly optimistic stance kept him active far beyond the expectations of his physicians. I am reminded of Susan Sontag's book, Illness as a Metaphor, in which she writes:
"As long as a particular disease is treated as an evil, invincible predator, not just a disease, most people with cancer will indeed be demoralized by learning what disease they have. The solution is hardly to stop telling cancer patients the truth, but to rectify the conception of the disease, to de-mythicize it." Cancer, she argues, is not a curse, not a punishment, certainly not an embarrassment. Al Sunshine lived by this credo. He was straightforward, clear-eyed and unselfpitying. He talked candidly about the elephant in the room, and made it hopeful nonetheless.
Many here today, particularly those outside the field of medicine, may not understand the significance of the Sunshine Professorship. It is both unique and unprecedented because it honors a teacher and provides him or her with the time to teach and think about medical education. Medical Schools, in general, don’t like to pay for teaching. Teaching does not generate income and it does not result directly in research.
Al knew that our medical school would question his decision to create this professorship and in fact did suggest other ways to donate, but Al would sign no document until it was clear that the funds would get the right person to do the right thing. Al understood the important role of the seasoned clinician in educating medical students and doctors in training. It was a role he had played for many years.
It has been an honor for me to serve as the first Abraham Sunshine Professor and I hope I have lived up to Al’s expectations. The position has given me the opportunity to teach and to publish papers on medical education, but it also allowed me to get to know a remarkable individual whose personal warmth and commitment to the art of being a doctor will be deeply missed, but whose legacy will live on at NYU for years to come.
