Marvin G. Osofsky

1934 - 2019

Marvin G. Osofsky

New City - Marvin G. Osofsky (March 4, 1934 - March 31, 2019) was born in Boston, Massachusetts to Harris (an auto mechanic) and Bernice (a homemaker) Osofsky. He attended the Boston Latin School, and then did his undergraduate work at Harvard, followed by medical school at the University of Buffalo. After his residency in hematology, he joined the Air Force and served as a physician and captain at Andrews Air Force Base outside of Washington, DC. He consistently referred to his time in the Air Force as among the happiest in his career. As he and his wife Nancy started a family, they moved to Flushing, Queens for several years before he ended-up establishing himself in hematology-oncology practice in Rockland County in 1967. Over time, demand for his unique mix of expertise grew, and he became affiliated with Nyack, Good Samaritan, Tuxedo, Pearl River, and Helen Hayes Hospitals. He was also a consultant at Letchworth Village Developmental Center. Dr. Osofsky served as Chief of Medicine at Nyack Hospital from 1974-1976, and as Chief of Hematology / Oncology at Nyack and Good Samaritan.

Long before hospice care was a reality in Rockland, Dr. Osofsky had integrated the basic tenets of humanity and compassion into his medical practice. He thought about his patients as people first, with a focus on the relief of anxiety and pain first and foremost, including the anxiety experienced by a patient's family. Dr. Osofsky became the Volunteer Medical Director of the Palliative Care Program at Good Samaritan Hospital from 1983 - 1987. He then served as United Hospice of Rockland's first Medical Director from 1988 - 1990. We'll come back to Hospice.

The above are "the facts," but what do they all add-up to? If you were a patient (or a member of a patient's family), your first visit to Dr. Osofsky's office on Phillips Hill Road in New City would likely have been… somewhat shocking. As you walked in the door (the outside of which had a placard that read "Mimi Hartwick, RN and What's His Name, MD"), you would have been greeted by Mimi Hartwick (the only other person who worked in this large practice), who would likely offer you cake, cookies, pastrami, or whatever else patients had brought in that day— along with an open bar. You might have thought you had accidentally walked into a party. From the Christmas tree on a table (there year-round) to the stuffed giraffes "coupled" and hanging from the ceiling, to the Mickey Mouse phone on Mimi's desk, to Dr. Osofsky himself perhaps wearing a giant Donald Duck head or an outlandish necklace of large wooden beads and feathers and a chef's apron (did I mention he might walk into the waiting room beating a wooden drum?) — you would be confused at first, and question whether you had actually entered a doctor's office. Completely politically incorrect — then and much more so now — there was a clear method to his madness. The circus atmosphere he and Mimi created, borne out of love for their patients and their work, usually helped to dissolve away the fear and anxieties that understandably and typically accompanied anyone whose circumstances led them to a hematologist / oncologist's office in the first place. The open bar and the often raunchy (and loud) conversations, punctuated by constant laughter, often involved patients who were there just visiting that particular day — not because they actually had appointments. And the office parties — oh, the office parties. Sometimes held at the office — and when they were for major holidays hosted by Mimi at her house (and she did all of the cooking!)— those were wild and crazy events to behold.

Dr. Osofsky (whose patients mischievously called him much more colorful names that likely don't belong in an obituary) lamented in his later years that the practice of medicine, and the intellectual freedom and compassion it used to foster, had changed beyond repair. Could a large practice like his be run by just two people today? Unimaginable. Could the type of practice he and Mimi created survive today's PC culture? Inconceivable. He made "Patch Adams" look like a quiet conformist. Did his (often terminal) patients die laughing? You bet they did. And that was the whole point. After he retired, he would mention that point often, as it was the most important thing to him — "They died laughing," he loved to say. And it was true….

He maintained his sense of humor until the end. And the fact that he died under the care of the very hospice center he'd helped establish made all the sense in the world. He was a physician whose passion for helping others was unrivaled; a loving father and grandfather of three children (Kathy, Douglas, and Steve) and four grandchildren; and a big brother to his sister Rozzie whom he loved very much. He will be greatly missed. As he grew older, he lamented the state not only of medicine, but of the political chaos in our country, and would often punctuate his diatribes with what became his favorite expression — "TGIWBD" — "Thank God I Will Be Dead." And of course now he is, and may he rest in peace, and once again enjoy a good meal and a dance with Mimi (who predeceased him). We'll miss you greatly, Dad, aka, What's His Name, MD.

If you would like to honor Dr. Osofsky's memory, please consider a tax deductible donation to: United Hospice of Rockland, 11 Stokum Lane, New City, NY 10956, 845.284.9403, info@hospiceofrockland.org.