Alright, so picture this: it’s 1964, New York City, and my dad just got into Cornell Medical College. Now, we’re not talking about some light schooling here – this is dissecting-cadavers, diagnosing-diseases type stuff. He’s living in this dorm with beds like cardboard, tunnels to the hospital, and the occasional professor dressed like a Viking. And my dad? He’s eating it up. Somehow, between diagnosing rare diseases and making his way through the Big Apple, he meets my mom. So here we go, folks – a wild ride through medical school, 1960s style, with all the grit and heart.

Manhattan, Medicine, and Memories: The Journey Through Cornell Medical College

On December 4, 1964, I received the letter of acceptance into the class of 1969 of Cornell Medical College. My family and I were thrilled. “The Study of Medicine Exposes One, in a few years to the Entire Range of Human Existence … Life, Death, Poverty, Wealth, Competition, Loneliness, Solitude, Sacrifice, Fulfillment and Fallibility.” (Mike Mulroy, Samaritan 1969 Yearbook).

Weill Cornell Medical College, Manhattan, New York, 2024

In the summer of 1965, eighty-five students, including 21 spouses and families, settled into Olin Hall and Livingston Apartments, the Cornell medical students’ home on East 69th Street and York Avenue, Manhattan. The class was mostly white and male, and 5 (6%) were ladies. Vincent was from Ghana. Today, 54% are she/her and 52% are students of diversity. My classmates were a select group - friendly, talented and intelligent.

Olin Hall was a simple abode and offered a lounge with a pool table, small TV and grand piano. We were provided with a canteen for hamburgers and snacks - more about that later. There was a basketball court on the lower floor. The beds with plywood “springs” and thin mattresses did not encourage sleeping. There were tunnels connecting Olin Hall to New York Hospital (NYH) and the Cornell nursing residence which were efficient in bad weather.

It was a blessing to have attended one of the top 10 medical schools in the world. The medical school faculty was second to none and they were leaders in their fields. The Cornell Medical degree was respected throughout the world and opened doors. During orientation, Dean Hanlon informed us that we were the top 1% of the population and that none of us would fail to graduate. That was a relief.

In the first year, we learned human anatomy and dissected cadavers. Dissection has remained the cornerstone of gross anatomy for over four hundred-fifty years. Cornell Medical students still dissect donated human bodies. In the second year, I was selected to be an anatomy instructor for Dr. Swan. I enjoyed teaching. Recent advancements offer alternatives such as preserved specimens dissected by experts and virtual anatomy digital platforms.

The Day Begins Early

We studied physiology and pathology, pharmacology and microbiology, bacteriology and parasitology. One morning, Dr. Kean came into the lecture hall dressed as a Viking, with a fur loincloth, head dress, with horns, carrying a spear. A large kettle of brown material with a large ladle was in front of the lecture room. Dr. Kean was lecturing on Schistosomiasis.

He began stirring the kettle as he lectured, “Schistosomiasis is caused by parasitic flatworms called schistosomes. Symptoms include diarrhea. The disease is spread by contaminated water and infected snails. The disease is common among children and people using unclean water in underdeveloped countries. Diagnosis is made by finding eggs of the parasite in human stool.” The kettle of brown material was a proxy for human excrement in which we were to look for worms. It was our startling introduction to parasitology and certainly got our attention. The priority of the teacher is to keep the medical student awake.

5:30 am, walking the “tunnel” to work

In our second year, we learned the art of the History of Present Illness (HOP) and physical examination. Vince was my physical exam partner. We lost contact with each other and that I regret.

I was assigned a 50-year-old male patient complaining of fatigue, shortness of breath, night sweats, weight loss, and vague abdominal pain. This patient had been undiagnosed by the physicians at NY Hospital. By taking an exhaustive history and using “French’s Textbook of Diagnosis,” my diagnosis was Agnogenic Myeloid Metaplasia (AMM). AMM is a rare (6,000 cases per year - USA) disease characterized by gradual replacement (crowding out) of bone marrow red cells by fibrous tissue. It was noted that a medical student diagnosed a difficult case. My correct diagnosis by History of Present Illness alone in the beginning of my third year of medical school imprinted the power of the HOP on my brain. I will never forget that lesson.

In the summer of 1967, I had a special research experience with Dr. Hagstrom in pathology and published a paper. (Arangio, G.A., and Hagstrom, J.W.C.: Histological Classification of Rabbit Hindlimb Striated Muscles, Journal of Histochemistry and Cytochemistry, 17:277, 1969). It was an intellectual awakening.

In our third and fourth years we met our patients and learned the clinical art of medicine. My success in the surgical animal lab confirmed my surgical skills. Surgeons have different traits and skills and are different characters than medical physicians.

Vince practices on me and I on him

Every medical student must take a series of core rotations before graduating. During our third and fourth year, we rotated on internal medicine, general surgery, psychiatry, neurology, pediatrics, and obstetrics and gynecology. We were given increasing responsibilities with close supervision. We put our knowledge to work “practicing” medicine.

On December 3, 1967, South African doctor, Dr. Christiaan Barnard, performed the world's first human heart transplant at Groote Schuur Hospital, Cape Town. Dr. Bernard came to Cornell Medical School to lecture on March 5, 1968. That evening, five of us ate rare hamburgers at the Olin canteen. We developed acute Toxoplasmosis Gondi with fatigue, headache, fever, enlarged lymph glands, muscle ache, and enlarged spleens. My temperature was 105F. I was in bed for a week and lost 12 pounds. Dr. Kean’s team traced the infected meat to a local butcher near the medical school. We all recovered without long-lasting effects and Dr Kean published our cases. (Kean BH, Kimball AC, Christenson WN. An epidemic of acute toxoplasmosis. J Am Med Assoc. 1969; 208:1002–4)

By 6:00 am, medical students had drawn all the samples of blood from patients’ veins (phlebotomy). Using a blood pressure cuff as a tourniquet, in difficult situations, was a “pearl” I learned under fire. A quick prayer helped too.

Joe, checking the lungs and throat of his compliant patient

Six weeks of neurology with Dr. Plum and Dr Levitt, the chief resident, was a challenging and positive experience. Dr. Plum’s significant grand rounds were well attended by physicians and were magical. The experience served me well in my career in Orthopedic medicine and surgery.

On the other side of life, relax when you may. The 1960’s were a decade of change for the USA and “times they were a-changin” for women. We would never be the same again. In our limited free time, we pursued our passions, and it was man and woman as the essence of all things. We enjoyed extra-curricular activities in our individual ways. It was a time of humanism in the “Big Apple”

The unmarried struggle to maintain moral discipline. The Apostle Paul wrote to the people at Corinth “… I say to the unmarried, it is good for them if they abide as I, unmarried. But if they cannot contain themselves, let them marry for it is better to marry than to burn” in hell of passion. (I Corinthians 7: 8-11)

Medical students were very eligible bachelors. Olin Hall’s basement basketball court doubled as a social space. The class hosted “parties” every few months that were well attended by NYH nurses and others, including very well-dressed ladies from the Barbizon Hotel for Women. The Barbizon’s residents included students, models, actresses, and writers, and ambitious women pursuing careers in other professions. The luxurious hotel became a symbol of independence for women, “The Hotel That Set Women Free” (Pauline Bren, Harper Collins, 2018).

We partied with the same vigor and intensity with which we worked. We visited the “Recovery Room”, an appropriately named establishent, down the street. Some indulged, some just watched the scene develope. “The brewery is the best drugstore” (Samaratan ’69 , Editorial Board)

We played our instruments, and pool, basketball, and squash and walked our dogs. The Seniors put on our annual show with singing and skits.

In the show, we took the opportunity to “roast” the faculty. I “roasted” our brilliant and flamboyant Chairman of Surgery with special lyrics to “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly” and danced a soft shoe. 

George as Dr. C. W. Lillehei and “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly”

In September of 1967 on the first day of my general surgical rotation I noticed an attractive young nurse. The Lord sent me a helper, Judith Lynn Besemer, RN. It was mutual admiration from first sight. We became friends. We enjoyed walking around the “Big Apple” and went to the Schaeffer Music Festivals in Central Park. We enjoyed being together. She cared for me with “Caritas”, a love aimed at building up others and she broke through my barriers. I met Judy’s parents. Clarence Patrick Belford Besemer was more Irish than Dutch English. He and I became good friends. Judy’s mother Dorothy June Seibert Besemer of German descent was the apple of Pat’s eye. Dorothy and I got along fine.

It was a summer morning the day before graduation, he hurried past me on 1st Avenue and congratulated me on my engagement to Judy. My gut flashed “something is different”. It is a moment I will never forget. Sadly, our kind gentleman classmate ended his life with an intravenous sedative while reading poetry that night before receiving his medical degree. I have acted on those “feelings” ever since. In a few cases, I have made a difference.

Indeed, all eighty-four of eighty-four in our class received their medical degrees. “Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop” (Lewis Carrol, Alice in Wonderland)

Judy and I at the Senior Christmas Party, December 1968

Judy and I were married a few days after graduation on June 7, 1969, in a beautiful country chapel in Lebanon, NY. We were starting our life together in Roxborough, Pa. I would be training as a surgical intern at Temple University Hospital, North Philadelphia, Pa.

Until next time, God bless you.

George A. Arangio, M.D.

P.S. Keep We Talk with God at your bedside and share it with your family.

P.P.S. Please ask three (3) of your family and friends to read We Talk with God. It may be the answer to their prayers. And give a rating and a review. Thank you.

Summary:

George A. Arangio, M.D., is the author of We Talk with God, a scripture-based guide to God’s advice that will boost your spiritual energy, bring you peace, and enrich your life. It is full of simple lessons. It shows how God’s Word guarantees answers to life’s important questions. It may also be the answer to your prayers. Please read it and write a review on Amazon.com. For further insights and discussion, visit WeTalkWithGod.com.