Farewell to the ‘heart, soul, and pulse’ of Bara

It’s not every day someone is buried in the section of Westpark Cemetery reserved for people who have displayed exceptional commitment to the community and humanity.

The late Professor David Blumsohn was one of them. Known as the “heart, soul, and pulse” of Chris Hani Baragwanath Academic Hospital (CHBAH) where he worked for 50 years, he was described by Rabbi Jonathan Fox this week as an “extraordinary human being, doctor, and committed Jew”.

The SA Jewish Report has been inundated with requests by esteemed medical colleagues, past students, and former patients wishing to write something in his honour.

In his 89 years, the humble humanitarian not only saved and touched thousands of people’s lives, he changed them for the better, they said.

He devoted his life to the practice of medicine almost exclusively in the public sector, wholeheartedly serving the poorest of the poor in Soweto during and after the darkest years of apartheid.

With a mezuzah always firmly affixed to the door of his rooms at CHBAH, he told his students it was a reminder that Hashem was always present even during all the chaos and suffering.

As a principal physician and cardiologist, he headed one of the largest medical units at CHBAH.

He is fondly remembered for his encyclopaedic knowledge of medicine and his extracurricular passions which included Egyptology and hieroglyphics, even holding a doctorate in Semitic languages. Mostly, he’s remembered for his kindness and compassion.

At his funeral, Rabbi Dr Dean Gersun described Blumsohn as “the ultimate mensch”.

“You only had to meet him for five minutes to be spellbound by his genuine love, care, kindness, and compassion,” he said, adding that he had “genuine care for his patients, for how they were, and who they were”.

He recalled the time when Blumsohn took off his own shoes to give to a patient who had to walk home from the hospital.

He told his students, “I’m driving home, he [the patient] has no shoes to walk home, he needs them more than I do.”

Gersun said he personally saw him take money from his wallet more than once on a ward round to give to a patient who would need fare for a taxi home.

He said students were “blown away” by his legendary ECG (electrocardiogram) tutorials, which he delivered over and over with the same excitement.

Students adopted him as their “mentor, friend, their teacher, or their zaida [grandfather]. His love and kindness knew no limits. Students of all races and religions became his unrelated family,” he said.

On one occasion, Blumsohn called him and a religious Muslim student doctor aside to explain the origins and connections between the Hebrew word “shalom” and Arabic word “salaam”. “Using a big brown X-ray envelope, he outlined how we all had a common origin and ancestor. Using hieroglyphics, he then explained how we could say hello, goodbye, and peace.”

After his retirement in 1997, Blumsohn continued to work at CHBAH as an honorary professor, and his door was always open to share his extensive medical knowledge with students and colleagues.

Specialist neurologist Dr Michael Huth said Blumsohn had a “limitless enthusiasm” for medicine and for the students he taught. This was overshadowed by his “unique and unmatched care for human beings”. Being an expert in hieroglyphics, he said Blumsohn would often stop him in the middle of a busy workday for a one-minute corridor discussion on the origins of words, names, or ideas in medicine or life in general.

“He made every colleague feel like his best friend and eased their burden by showering his warm glow of kindness, compassion, and humour on them. Seeing him interact with suffering patients was a moving experience and left a lasting [lifelong] impression. He lived every breath for others, and the influence of his manner with others or through speaking to him, inspired those around him on a daily basis.”

Associate Professor Elise Schapkaitz said Blumsohn, “deplored injustice and decried the indifference shown to the plight of underprivileged patients in what he would often describe as an ‘unjust world’”.

She described Blumsohn as “a man for all seasons, with a fine sense of humour.”

“He loved chess, music, and cricket. And everything he did, he did well. He wasn’t just a player of chess but a grand master.” She said every student at CHBAH had a card with their name written in hieroglyphics from him.

“He wasn’t just my mentor on how to be a good doctor, but my role model on how to be a good person,” she said.

So many tributes were posted on Facebook.

Dr Danella Eliasov described him as one of the “kindest human beings” she had ever met. “I remember him crying outside ward 20 because there were no beds and patients were sleeping on the floor. I remember him telling me that I have an important job because a psychiatrist is a soul doctor.”

Dr Daniel Israel said his medical knowledge and bedside manner was “unique”.

Cardiologist Dr Riaz Garda said he had introduced him to his wife when she was an intern at CHBAH. “He has been close to our family for many years. During my illness, he contacted my wife about six weeks ago to offer her his unconditional support. He taught me that as a doctor, it’s not how much you know, but how much you care.”

Dr Muhammad Manjra thanked him for “showing us that no matter how demanding medicine can be, no matter how many times we may get beaten, broken, and battered by an overloaded, understaffed, and dysfunctional system, we must always be kind, empathetic, caring, and attentive to our patients. You helped us keep our spirits strong in a system designed to break it.”

Rabbi Ami Glixman from Our Parents Home said Blumsohn never missed a minyan or a shiur. Even when he wasn’t feeling strong, he strengthened himself to attend shul. In fact, right until erev Yom Kippur, he was at shul.

Blumsohn and his siblings, Maurice, who lives in Johannesburg, and Tzilla, who lives in Israel, were born and raised in Roodepoort. They grew up in an observant home and their father, who arrived in South Africa from Lithuania when he was 18 years old, ran religious services in Belfast and Nigel and later became a shochet (qualified to slaughter meat according to Jewish law)

Blumsohn attended Krugersdorp High School, and went on to study medicine at the University of the Witwatersrand. He married his love, June, one of CHBAH’s first radiologists, who passed away when she was young. He lived in the couple’s home in Kew, Johannesburg, for about 40 years before moving to Our Parents Home about four years ago.

Maurice told the SA Jewish Report this week that he “couldn’t have wished for a better brother.”

“He was always wonderful. He was my closest friend and cared about others more than he cared about himself.”

He recalled that his brother was always bright, and believes he had a photographic memory.

“David was in second-year medicine when I was studying hard into the night during my matric year. He used to sit in an armchair reading large medical journals like they were novels, and get up at 21:00 and go to bed having absorbed everything. He also beat me at cricket.”

Blumsohn was published widely in medical literature, and was invited to leading international medical institutions as a visiting professor. He was the recipient of the PV Tobias and Convocation Award for distinguished teaching in 1996, and was guest speaker at the final year medical students’ ball for five years, testament to his popularity amongst students. He was awarded the Gold Medal of the University of the Witwatersrand in recognition of his extraordinary contributions to the Faculty of Health Sciences, his students, and the Soweto community.

Said Huth, “In a world and a time when most heroes are only on the screen, he was a precious, real-life hero and mentor to so many.”

He had no children of his own, but his countless patients and students were his family for life.