About

Shaye J.D. Cohen is the Nathan Littauer Professor of Hebrew Literature and Philosophy at Harvard University. His research focuses on Hebrew literature, philosophy, and the history of religion, contributing significantly to the understanding of biblical texts and their historical contexts. As a distinguished scholar, he has engaged in exploring the intersections of religion, literature, and philosophy within the Hebrew tradition, providing insights into the development of religious thought and biblical interpretation.

Research topics

• Political Science
• Law
• Epistemology
• Classics
• Psychiatry
• Philosophy
• History
• Medicine

Selected publications

• Oliver Wendell Holmes’ 1836 doctorate dissertation and his journey in medicine

  World Journal of Cardiology · 2020

  1st authorCorresponding
  • Political Science
  • Medicine
  • Classics

  Oliver Wendell Holmes' 1836 hand written doctorate dissertation on acute pericarditis was discovered in the archives of the Boston Medical Library 101 years after it was successfully defended. It was then printed as an unabridged monograph with an explanation of its provenance. The dissertation has received little scrutiny since then. Holmes gathered materials for the scholarly work while he was a third and fourth year student at Ecole de Medecine in Paris. His mentor, Pierre-Charles-Alexandre- Louis insisted on the meticulous gathering and recording of every patient's history and findings. Each category of data was given a weighted numerical value of diagnostic importance and the information was placed in a registry. Holmes became a disciple of Louis in gathering data by direct observation and measuring outcomes in a "statistical" fashion. Holmes dissertation on acute pericarditis describes the state of knowledge about the illness in the 1830s. When Holmes and other students who had studied in Paris returned to the United States, they helped turn American Medicine from opinion and strong personal bias toward scientific objectivity. Oliver Wendell Holmes eventually became both a professor of anatomy/physiology and a dean at Harvard Medical School. He is recognized as a leader in medicine and a popular author in America and beyond. In his late and infirmed years, Holmes questioned the wisdom of his unswerving advocacy for the scientific underpinnings of medicine. In retrospect he had overlooked the importance of also advocating that each patient be approached with comforting compassion.

  PublisherDOI

• Monroe J. Schlesinger's Radiographic Visualization of the Coronary Arteries in Postmortem Hearts and Its Clinical Applications

  The American Journal of Cardiology · 2018-08-01 · 1 citations

  articleOpen accessSenior authorCorresponding
  PublisherOA PDFDOI

• Jim's Prostate Cancer

  Texas Heart Institute Journal · 2017-02-01

  articleOpen access1st authorCorresponding

  Jim was raised on a tobacco farm in the Deep South, volunteered for military service, and attended optometry school on the GI Bill. His intelligence, demeanor, and work ethic landed him a job at a prestigious university eye clinic. He tells people that I twice saved his life. The first time, he came under my care with pulmonary edema and a rapid life-threatening heart rhythm. An implanted pacemaker-defibrillator and medications got him back to work. The second time occurred years later, when I cared for him during an episode of near-fatal bilateral pulmonary emboli.After the prostate-specific antigen (PSA) blood test was developed and administered at reasonable cost, Jim underwent testing, and his level was mildly elevated. A urologist was consulted. Prostate biopsies revealed a low-grade cancer. Surgical removal was recommended, but Jim opted for watchful waiting. The decision had merit, for his occasional PSA blood tests remained stable for the next 12 years. During the last 3 of those years, the prostate enlarged and partially obstructed urinary outflow from the bladder. Finasteride was prescribed to shrink the prostate. Jim was pleased with the result.Then, a controversial U.S. Preventive Services Task Force guideline was published. It discouraged the performance of PSA blood tests on the asymptomatic elderly. Doctors were advised to be circumspect in proposing procedures to eliminate prostate cancer, because asymptomatic patients who underwent procedures and treatments on the basis of elevated PSA test results often had adverse sequelae and did not live longer than patients with elevated PSA levels who remained asymptomatic on a program of “benign neglect” of their unbiopsied (and untreated) cancers. Many doctors disagreed, but Jim's doctors followed the guideline. He had no PSA tests for 3 years. The next test result revealed a dramatic elevation that was almost “off the charts.” Even though the PSA level had rocketed up, Jim remained unconcerned and without symptoms. However, when the urologist found a rock-hard area on the prostate, Jim reluctantly agreed to further studies. A bone scan revealed multiple areas of likely cancer that had spread from the prostate to bone. A prostate biopsy revealed the highest grade of cancer.A scientific study in 2013 concluded that patients taking finasteride were more likely to develop high-grade prostate cancer than were those who did not take it.When there is a troublesome outcome, most doctors review the patient's course and the actions of the medical establishment. In this case, they might ask, “Would Jim's health-and-wellness scale still be in balance if annual PSA studies had been performed? Would the spread of cancer have been prevented with earlier diagnosis and treatment?”When tumor-shrinking chemotherapy was proposed, Jim did not want to undergo treatment if side effects would immediately make him ill. He was content to enjoy his asymptomatic state and delay any consideration of treatment until the cancer caused pain or suffering. If such occurred, he would face that challenge and prevail. Jim is resilient—he has overcome serious medical illness and personal troubles in the past, without falling apart.After I retired from clinical practice, we stayed in touch. When asked to accompany Jim to a meeting with his urologist, I agreed to do so as a friend. Time and space do not alter the strong bonds of long-term patient–doctor relationships.The urologist's apparently prepared sermon ended with a request for Jim to start a relatively benign oral medication that should delay symptoms, should be well tolerated, and should have the potential to substantially shrink the tumors. During the monologue we listened, and we nodded our approval when Jim agreed to be treated.At this writing, Jim remains asymptomatic and shows evidence of tumor regression. We shall await the outcome together.

  PublisherOA PDFDOI

• A Dying Man's Wish Fulfilled

  Texas Heart Institute Journal · 2016-08-01

  articleOpen access1st authorCorresponding

  Burt was a square-jawed, tough-looking guy. He was powerful and had bulging muscles. However, appearances can be deceiving. Burt was an artist, tough only on himself, demanding self-excellence in every endeavor.He had immense talent. He had earned a full scholarship to the Massachusetts College of Art, and after one semester had been advised to concentrate on illustration. Indeed, illustration was Burt's first love, and jazz music was a close second. He had an encyclopedic memory of musicians and their performances. He spent his leisure time listening to his collected jazz recordings or attending live shows at Boston's many clubs. While he was shrouded in those smoke-filled venues, his sketches of the performers captured their mood and their energy.Burt and his art were noticed. Eventually, he became famous. His illustrated jackets of jazz albums commanded high prices and were exhibited in galleries and museums.When Burt retired, he continued to illustrate for pleasure. His wife, Kathy, occasionally sold a classic original to a collector. In their happy home life in the suburbs, the childless couple shared their abundant affection with their pet bulldog, Winston.Advanced coronary disease and its sequela, congestive heart failure (CHF), had mostly confined Burt to his home, where he and Winston had become close companions. For exercise, Burt and Winston would slowly walk along their long, sloping driveway to the street two or three times a day. When the walks became progressively more difficult for Burt, Winston understood, slowed to his master's pace, and remained close by.Burt would not have come to my office were it not for his injured pride and his animus toward his previous cardiologist. I could sympathize with Burt's belief that he'd been regarded as a number rather than as a person. After one year, his doctor still did not know what inspired Burt, or his aspirations, mission, or goals. During their initial visit, the doctor had asked what Burt had done before retirement; Burt had said, “I painted,” and had added some words of explanation. The official record listed his profession as “house painter,” rather than “artist.” Several requests to correct the record had been ignored. Because of double bookings of patients, Burt and Kathy had often waited 30 to 60 minutes beyond their appointment time, only to have an abbreviated, hurried visit with the doctor. Kathy thought that the cardiologist had spent more time administering and ordering tests than he had spent discussing the need for, or results of, those tests.By default, explaining the prognosis of CHF fell to me. The five-year survival rate for chronic CHF is approximately 50%, and Burt had already survived for four years. With my encouragement, Burt dedicated himself to his medical regimen and to enjoying what time remained with Kathy and Winston.There were continuous mini-crises, such as brief hospitalizations and office appointments urgently arranged by their home-care nurse. During office visits at the end of the day, I would ask, “How's Winston?” Burt and Kathy would then invite me to the adjacent parking garage to see for myself. Winston always looked happy, calm, quiet, and friendly, his stubby tail wagging away.Eventually, Burt experienced sudden pulmonary edema and was taken by ambulance to our emergency department. Although medical management cleared the fluid from Burt's lungs and a coronary angiogram showed no change, the improvement was short-lived. Burt remained in the hospital and continued to fail, despite aggressive medical therapy. Each day, he begged me to permit visits from Winston.“Winston won't bother anyone,” Burt said. “Here I am in a private room!”I reluctantly replied, “Hospital rules don't permit visits from pets.” With that, I am sure that Burt had second thoughts about the words that he had written to me on a catalogue of his works: “from the heart of an artist to a doctor with a heart.”The symptoms of end-stage CHF are difficult to witness. The shadow of the Grim Reaper was outside Burt's hospital room when I left for a distant medical meeting. Burt died before I returned. On the morning of his death, Kathy was by his side, having spent most of the previous night with him.When I expressed my condolences to Kathy, I shared my remorse at having been away when Burt died, and at his not being able to visit with Winston.Kathy replied, “Don't worry—he died happy. The night nurse and I took care of that.” Kathy explained that Burt had constantly asked for Winston those last few days. The evening nurse thought that it would be tragic if Burt didn't get his dying wish—and nurses know how to get things done. She would be working the night shift the next day and would cast a blind eye if Kathy entered Burt's room at about 1 am. So during Burt's last two nights on Earth, Kathy came and left in the wee hours of the morning, carrying Winston beneath a blanket. Burt held Winston, they kissed each other, and they said their goodbyes. A kind-hearted nurse had enabled Burt to die a happy man.Submissions for Peabody's Corner should 1) focus on the interpersonal aspects of a specific patient-doctor experience; 2) be written in storybook fashion; 3) contain no references; and 4) not exceed 5 double-spaced typescript pages.

  PublisherOA PDFDOI

• On the Life of Larry Graves: The First Child Ever to Have a Totally Implanted Pacemaker

  Texas Heart Institute Journal · 2016-02-01 · 3 citations

  reviewOpen access1st authorCorresponding

  At 22 months of age, Larry Graves was diagnosed with a ventricular septal defect that carried a sentence of death in early childhood. At age 8, he had corrective surgery and became the first child in the world to have a totally implanted pacemaker. Thereafter, he was hailed around the planet as “The Boy with the Electrified Heart.”1His is a story about a desperate patient, loving parents committed to saving their child at any cost, caring communities, pioneering doctors, and collaborating medical institutions.Barbara Ann and Thomas Graves married young. When times were good, factories in Fairmont, West Virginia—where the family lived—provided the bulk of employment. Thomas worked full-time at Westinghouse and part-time as a bookkeeper at an automobile agency. Barbara Ann was a full-time homemaker and supplemented the family income by caring for foster children as if they were her own.2On 27 May 1952, Barbara Ann Graves gave birth to twin boys, Larry Wayne and Barry Layne, at Fairmont General Hospital. The twins were additional responsibilities, which now included 5-year-old Sharon (the twins' older sister), 2 foster children, an automobile, and a home mortgage. A 4th child of their own, Shannon, was to follow. During trouble-free times, the family could get along. But a series of difficult problems unsettled the lives of the Graves family, whom Barbara characterized as “hard-working, middle-class, honest people.”aAt the outset, Larry lacked Barry's vigor, and then simply failed to thrive. Their exceptional family pediatrician suspected congenital heart disease. He recommended travel to Children's Hospital Boston because of its renowned surgical department led by Dr. Robert Gross. The advice was taken and the diagnosis made—“a hole in the heart” between the main chambers. The treatment was a not-yet-perfected open-heart operation that had better outcomes among older children. So Barbara Ann and Thomas delayed Larry's surgery as long as possible. While they waited, medical expenses and biannual trips to Boston became an emotional and financial drain.Whereas Barry grew tall, broad, and strong with powerful physical attributes (Fig. 1), Larry remained frail, became breathless during slight activity, and sat on the sidelines, envious of his brother's athletic skills.At the age of 8, weighing 40 pounds and failing fast, Larry returned to Boston for “hole in the heart” ventricular septal defect repair, performed on 14 October 1960 by Dr. Samuel Schuster and his team of surgeons. The surgery was immediately complicated by complete heart block. Dr. Schuster was well prepared for such an emergency. He followed a procedure proposed by Dr. Walton Lillehei of Minnesota, whose team had developed a method of emergency management that involved placing one end of a wire electrode on the heart at the conclusion of surgery. The other end of the electrode was drawn out of the body and attached to an external pacemaker.3 Lillehei's method had been adapted from animal experiments at Otto Kreyer's pharmacology department at Harvard Medical School, located diagonally across from Children's Hospital.4The pediatric surgical team asked Dr. Paul Zoll at neighboring Beth Israel Hospital to consult on Larry, whose heart rate was being driven by a specialized Electrodyne monitor-automatic pacemaker with a face plate that read, “Developed by Paul M. Zoll, MD.”The surgeons and Dr. Zoll hoped that Larry's heart block would resolve, while Barbara Ann and Thomas prayed that their boy would survive. Hazardous heart block persisted. Continuous temporary pacing was impractical, unreliable, and carried a risk that the electrode would provide a portal for serious infection. After agonizing for days, the physicians developed a survival plan that entailed Larry's receiving a fully implanted pacemaker. The procedure was performed on 10 November 1960.Paul Zoll and his colleague, thoracic surgeon Howard Frank, had performed open-chest pacemaker placements on a total of only 3 adults.5 Operating on a child would be far more complex. Drs. Frank and Schuster headed the surgical team that succeeded in restoring Larry's heart rate to normal with an electronic pacemaker. At the time, no one knew if the operation was the first of its kind on a youngster, but a recent comprehensive investigation has firmly established that Larry was the very first child in the world to receive a totally implanted, self-contained, long-term pacer.6 The operation on children remained formidable for years. In 1964, 4 years after Larry's procedure, a review of all cases revealed that only 17 children in the world had received an implanted pacemaker.7Larry Graves's immediate story captured a worldwide audience, as did its aftermath. The media continued to report on his progress, and Boston (“the hub of the universe”) was fittingly the hub of news about Larry.Workers from the local Westinghouse labor union in neighboring Hyde Park, Massachusetts, and the Sylvania local 291 International Union of Electrical Radio and Machine Workers in more distant Salem, Massachusetts, donated a total of 32 units of blood and contributed funds to defray Larry's hospital bill.8 Inmates at Massachusetts State Prison in Walpole similarly held a collection drive for Larry and sent the donated money to him in a “Pixie Bank” on Christmas with the encouraging note, “We are all in your corner pulling for you.”9When hospital bills became burdensome, a bank in the Graveses' hometown of Fairmont established a fund in Larry's name. On his desktop, the good family pediatrician kept a donation fishbowl for Larry and often wrote encouraging letters to his recovering hospitalized patient. Knowing that discomfort accompanies survival surgery, Larry was reminded to “pleasantly endure the miracle of life.”Fairmont had a population of only 30,000. The local economy was depressed. Workers were idle. The bank fund received many donations of several dollars or less. Boston newspapers did their part by publishing the hospital bill and the address of Larry's fund. The response reduced the total debt.Shortly after the family returned to Fairmont, Larry fell and bruised the skin overlying the pacemaker. The site became infected and forced the family to hasten back to Children's Hospital. Sharon, Barry, Shannon, and the foster children remained in Fairmont under the care of a relative, as in the past.8While Larry was in early recovery, his private-duty nurse and her husband graciously offered Barbara Ann and Thomas a place to stay at their nearby home to ease their access to Larry, to increase their physical comfort, and to reduce their emotional stress. Mary and Alfred Leonard were accustomed to embracing the families of sick youngsters at Children's Hospital.a,bLarry's setback caused his medical bills to mount. The hospital forgave the balance after Boston newspapers erroneously reported that Barbara Ann and Thomas were destitute, were selling their furniture, and were in danger of losing their house and car.10,11 In fact, the sale of unneeded possessions was motivated by a decision to relocate to Massachusetts so that Larry could have continuous access to his doctors. The entire nuclear family moved to Wrentham, a pleasant rural community west of Boston. Barbara Ann and the foster children were heartbroken when they separated. But the move was a wise decision, because 11 additional hospitalizations caused by infection and pacemaker-system malfunction occurred during the next 24 months. Under the watchful eyes of his doctors and the healing capacity of youth, Larry gradually regained his health. After the family established a semblance of normalcy, Barbara Ann thought that “perhaps Larry was spared for a reason.”2Home life didn't remain settled for long. While returning to their Wrentham neighborhood from Boston, Barbara Ann and Thomas noticed a dark column of smoke. When they arrived at Taunton Street, a police officer barred passage to their home, which was ablaze in full view. Fortunately the house was unoccupied except for a pet kitten that was rescued by the firefighters.12 When Thomas saw the conflagration up close, he said to his wife, “Don't worry, everything will be all right,” and it was. The house was not destroyed, and several good neighbors temporarily sheltered members of the split-up family. The resilient couple pressed on, as was their custom. They did not regard themselves as victims, or designees for hard times. Finding temporary quarters was not an overwhelming disruption, for lives were not jeopardized.Barbara Ann continued to help those in need. She looked after the developmentally disabled and believes that hers was the first foster home for several children with Down syndrome, who were sent from the Wrentham State School.c Thomas always welcomed disadvantaged children, for he and his brother had temporarily been sent to an orphanage when they were youngsters.New England winters can be brutal, especially for non-natives. Larry's doctors suggested that he move south to avoid the frigid winters. After living happily in Wrentham for 9 years, Larry and his entire family moved to Florida. In time, Larry entered the work force as a cottage parent overseeing “special-needs” youngsters.c He enjoyed his work because it came naturally to him. Larry was merely replicating his parents' commitment to help others.In 1980, Larry, Barry, and Shannon celebrated Christmas with their parents. At the end of this joyous event, the children left to return to their individual homes. Larry then fractured a leg in an automobile accident caused by the glare of a blinding sun. Several weeks later, Barry and his girlfriend inexplicably disappeared. They remained missing for a frantic week that was the worst ever for Barbara Ann and Thomas.c It culminated with their watching a late-breaking television news report of 2 drowned occupants in a submerged car that had been lifted out of a nearby swamp. Authorities surmised that the automobile veered sharply off the road and flipped upside down into the swamp.13 What tragic irony: robust Barry, at the age of 28, had predeceased fragile Larry.The surviving family members soldiered on, not permitting themselves to be totally consumed by events beyond their control, events that could not be altered. Barbara Ann and Thomas supported each other and set an example for their 3 remaining children, who “all pitched in.”c At various times, Barbara reflected on her strength and that of her family:aWould life-threatening or tragic events take a holiday? Not yet. Barbara Ann and Thomas were put to the test again when ill health revisited Larry in 1986 at the age of 34. This time progressive congestive heart failure resulted in his inability to perform the job he had loved for 16 years. In nature's embrace, Larry still managed to enjoy his long-established pleasures of swimming, camping, and fishing. Three years later, symptoms became so severe that heart transplantation was contemplated. Once again a life-saving medical intervention was considered, but this time could not be implemented because Larry did not qualify as a candidate.A sequence of pacemakers had kept Larry Graves's heart beating between 1960 and 1989, when, at age 37, he could no longer deny the Angel of Death.This story started in Fairmont, West Virginia, had dramatic moments in Boston, Massachusetts, and ended in Fort Myers, Florida. It is about the life journey of Larry Graves, the first child in the world to receive a totally implanted pacemaker. He undertook the risk, and several more decades of life were the reward. With optimism, and without complaint, Larry Graves underwent 36 operative procedures, almost one for each year that he was on this earth. In 1960, a man from Buffalo, New York, and Larry were the first adult and child to receive fully implanted pacemakers. Larry, and most other recipients, experienced the complications and malfunctions of unreliable early pacemaker systems. Fortunately, the rapid evolution of technology made the devices increasingly more dependable. Larry led the way for other children, and his later years were testimony that adulthood could be achieved. In 1960, When Larry was recovering from his surgeries at Children's Hospital, a columnist at the Boston Herald wrote, “There is in his story the moral that tomorrow's science holds hope for today's chronically ill patients.”8 Yes, little Larry led the way. He gave hope to countless children with troubled hearts. During the year he died, approximately 120,000 adults and children (combined) got pacemaker implantations in the U.S. alone.Barbara Ann's words were prophetic when she said, “perhaps Larry was spared for a reason.”

  PublisherOA PDFDOI

• False Alarm

  Texas Heart Institute Journal · 2015-11-30

  articleOpen access1st authorCorresponding

  Winnie was accompanied by her daughter during that first office visit for a cardiac consultation. The primary doctor was concerned that Winnie's symptoms of progressive fatigue, together with her ejection heart murmur, suggested aortic valve stenosis. Winnie was 95 years old and a widow. She had reluctantly moved from Maine to Boston to be near her only child. Winnie had been living alone on her small farm in Maine, and she now wished to remain independent in her compact apartment.Over time, I learned that Winnie had been born, was raised, and had remained on a patch of land in Maine that she called home. She had married her high-school sweetheart, Norman, on her 20th birthday. They had a lovely baby daughter who later left the homestead to attend an out-of-state college. The daughter ultimately settled in Boston, where she married and had a son.Norman died suddenly of a heart attack at age 42. In spite of that huge loss, Winnie continued tending to the farm. She was resilient, and over the years had learned to fix a tractor, perform varied home repairs, enjoy several crafts, and self-direct her education by avidly reading books and newspapers.During that first office visit, while she was seated on the other side of my desk, I intently watched and listened to her responses during the history-taking. I noted that her thyroid gland was symmetrically enlarged and sensed that this alert lady with thinning gray hair and a weather-beaten, wrinkled face was a salt-of-the-earth citizen.Her chief complaint was “feeling old.”I asked, “When did you first get that feeling?”“Oh, about 6 months ago,” Winnie replied in all sincerity.The examination revealed an enlarged thyroid gland, sluggish knee and ankle jerks, and signs of noncritical aortic stenosis. Results of blood studies confirmed a hypothyroid state. An electrocardiogram revealed modest left ventricular hypertrophy, as well as prolonged atrioventricular (AV) conduction. A chest radiograph showed a slightly dilated aorta and striking aortic valve calcification that was the most likely cause of the AV prolongation.I dutifully called the primary doctor with my recommendations and mailed a copy of the consultation to him, as well as to Winnie. The primary doctor agreed to institute a thyroid-medication regimen and requested that I again consult on an annual basis to monitor the aortic stenosis.For the next couple of years, Winnie's condition remained stable, with slight progression of her aortic stenosis and prolongation of her AV conduction delay. She had abundant energy and arrived unaccompanied for her visits, which were highlighted by this feisty patient's telling me about local or worldwide problems and their solutions, and my telling her, with a wink, that she was “far wiser than her years.”At age 97, Winnie suffered a crisis after ignoring a dizzy spell; this was followed the next day by a witnessed fainting spell. The diagnosis was intermittent heart block. The treatment was a dual-chamber pacemaker.Winnie availed herself of my office-based pacemaker-monitoring service. Through more frequent visits and transtelephonic pacemaker transmissions, we developed a close bond.When Winnie was nearing 100 years of age, she resisted her daughter's wish to plan a 100th-birthday celebration. She never expected to live so long and confessed to me that she was fated to die before her 100th year. I tried, without success, to reassure her that there was no obvious barrier to achieving that goal.I was awakened one night at 4 am by the ring of my bedside telephone. It was Winnie, announcing that “my time has finally come,” because she had heard a loud, continuous, repetitive oscillating sound that seemed to be coming from her heart or chest. She was certain that doomsday was upon her. “I will place my phone on my chest and you will be able to hear it, too,” she said. Actually, I could hear the sound without her offer.Before calling me, while anxious and frightened, Winnie had paced the apartment from room to room and was convinced that the strange sound had stayed with her. After some questioning, I ascertained that she physically felt well, and that she believed the sound emanated from her chest and her death was imminent.Pacemakers do not trigger an alarm when their batteries are low, as can be the case with some models of implanted cardioverter-defibrillators. I had no explanation for this strange circumstance, so I advised Winnie to go to the emergency department of the hospital where I would meet her. The staff was alerted to expect her arrival. While driving to the hospital with a clear mind, I realized that the loud, frightful sound that I had heard on the telephone had a familiar quality—perhaps that of a common alarm clock. Might that be the case, I wondered? If so, the sound should have changed intensity when Winnie moved about the apartment and should have ceased when she left to go to the hospital.Upon my arrival at the emergency department, Winnie greeted me with a frown and told me that it was her bad luck that the sound had disappeared. “Now,” she exclaimed, “we might never know the cause—especially if it was my heart!”After ascertaining that the pacemaker was in perfect order, I inquired whether Winnie had a bedside alarm clock. “Come to think of it, I do,” she replied, “a brand-new one that my grandson got me. Very complicated with a radio and other gadgets. I couldn't set it up, so he came over yesterday and got it going.”With that information, I assured Winnie that this incident was a false alarm, that it wasn't her time to go, and that she would have a joyous 100th-birthday celebration. And that she did.

  PublisherOA PDFDOI

• Paul Zoll MD; The Pioneer Whose Discoveries Prevent Sudden Death

  2014-05-30

  book1st authorCorresponding
  Publisher

• Death and Near Death from Cardiac Arrest during the Boston Marathon

  Pacing and Clinical Electrophysiology · 2011-10-31 · 24 citations

  articleOpen access1st authorCorresponding

  The Boston Marathon has been run for 115 years during which there were three sudden cardiac arrests. The most recent was a near death avoided by rapid cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) and defibrillation. Awareness of the dangers of participating in a marathon, the risk factors associated with sudden death during competition, and the life-saving importance of rapid CPR and defibrillation are essential for participants and event organizers. Available records and reports of the three known cases of cardiac arrest during the Boston Marathon were examined. These cases were identified by representatives of the Boston Athletic Association, which has organized each marathon since its inception. Pertinent literature was reviewed and new information was obtained during interviews of witnesses and rescuers. The data were analyzed in search of shared risk factors for cardiac arrest, death, and the optimal requirements for survival. In 115 years, there were two cardiac deaths and one near death from cardiac arrest. A history of coronary artery disease, advanced age, and prolonged race time are risk factors for sudden cardiac arrest. Rapid application of CPR and defibrillation are essential for survival. Prevention or reduction of life-threatening cardiac incidents during marathon races might be achieved if participants of advanced age or with a history of coronary artery disease seek medical clearance prior to entering an event. Those with coronary risk factors should have a discussion with their physician. Availability of trained personnel and defibrillators are important considerations in marathon planning.

  PublisherOA PDFDOI

• Dr. Benedict Massell

  Clinical Cardiology · 2009-07-16

  articleOpen access1st authorCorresponding
  PublisherOA PDFDOI

• Paul M. Zoll, M.D.—The father of “modern” electrotherapy and innovator of pharmacotherapy for life-threatening cardiac arrhythmias

  Resuscitation · 2007-03-14 · 4 citations

  article1st authorCorresponding
  PublisherDOI

Frequent coauthors

• Sun H. Lau

  93 shared

• A N Damato

  82 shared

• Kenneth M. Rosen

  82 shared

• Dae S. Koh

  Georgetown University

  81 shared

• Eugene Morkin

  University of Arizona

  21 shared

• Julian M. Aroesty

  Hadassah Medical Center

  20 shared

• Anthony N. Damato

  Jersey City Medical Center

  11 shared

• Robert G. Johnson

  TiVo (United States)

  9 shared

Education

• Ph.D., Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations

  Harvard University

  1995

• M.A., Near Eastern Studies

  University of California, Berkeley

  1990

• B.A., Near Eastern Studies

  University of California, Berkeley

  1988