Last Monday during the lunch hour we heard some fire trucks screaming past our windows down Walnut Street here in Philly. This occurs three or four times daily. Later that afternoon, we received word that a pediatrician had been found in the basement of her home in the 1700 block of Naudain Street, dead, bound, and burned. It was reported that she was affiliated with The Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP), an internationally renowned institution.
The horror which overcame my office was incredible. We all found ourselves saying that we hoped and prayed that she was dead before being lit on fire, in and of itself a horrific thought, born of fear, frustration, and rage. Among other hypotheses floating around in the office was the concept that it might have been an anonymous stalker, or an ex/present lover, a daytime burglary gone wrong, or a serial killer. One of the theories proffered by a staff member was that perhaps it was some insane parent of a child who had not been saved, and that this individual blamed the doctor personally and professionally and had enacted revenge of the most frightening variety.
As it turned out, the miscreant was the exterminator who has confessed to the crime. As a matter of opinion, I do not believe his story which he is telling at this point, but it matters not what I believe.
There are two sidebar issues here which have manifest themselves in the immediacy of the tragedy . First, since Monday, we have seen in our office no fewer than fifteen people who had some contact with the victim. We treat many individuals from CHOP including a number of medical and surgical residents, full-time attending physicians, and staff. In addition, in a sense we have a neighborhood practice, so a number of people mentioned that they knew her from dog-walking and the sidewalk society in general. Almost everyone begins their "small talk" by mentioning the incident and the victim.
Second, those of us who treat individuals of all psychological varieties realized that one of our first instincts was to worry that someone would perceive us as aggressors towards themselves or a family member and attempt to harm us. Ninety nine percent of our relationships are at the very least cordial, but there are some which end on a sour note and the fears, whether real or imagined, were palpable. We number among our patients a small but not insignificant percentage of those diagnosed with some form of mental illness which requires medication. I am not including those who have anxiety disorders or sleep issues, or other manageable problems, but I am referring to schizophrenic, schizotypal, severe manic-depressives, suicidal gesturing and/or legitimate attempts of same, and occasionally pure sociopathy and other major illnesses, many of which are not managed well if at all. Strangely, there was a certain "relief" if you want to call it that, that the murder was not patient-oriented.
A week later, this is still the number one topic of conversation here, and it has shaken the very foundation of the Hospital I am told. The phrase "senseless tragedy" does not begin to define it, but is believe that the real lesson here is that the loss of anyone's life diminishes individuals in particular and society in general.
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just in case...
