It felt almost unreal but absolute when I heard of his passing. I have known Dr. George Reimann since 2020, when I worked with him as a physician associate where we had bonded over our mutual interest in art. He was an avid art collector, and I am an artist, and we used to go to galleries after work and discuss art history. He could recognize who painted an art piece by the type of paint strokes used. He would say how he had an eye for art but I had the talent to create it. I had lost my motivation to create, but he had inspired me to not waste my talent.

He was a brilliant man and a complex character who persevered with his own inner struggles. He didn’t have a family of his own, but would jokingly say that if he did have a son, he would have been around my age. He would offer his words of wisdom, and was like a father figure to me. He was there when my mom passed away, so I wanted to be there for him during his lowest. Growing up, George’s family was killed during the Holocaust and he and his mother were the only survivors. They had fled and eventually ended up coming to the US. Throughout the few years I knew him, he shared with me his hopes and dreams and also his many regrets. He tried to live his life to the fullest, and enjoyed meeting new people. He had survived many near death experiences, from almost drowning in a fountain at age 6, to getting assaulted and mugged, to almost falling off a cliffside, but this time it was different.

In 2022, unbeknownst to him, he had osteomyelitis in his spine, and his vertebrae collapsed while riding a citi bike. He suddenly lost sensation and strength in his legs and narrowly missed getting run over by a bus. Using his bike for support, he dragged himself to the nearest hospital where he had to have emergency surgery, but there were a lot of complications. Months later, he had a fall causing the titanium rods to break, resulting in additional surgeries. From 2022 to 2024, I would see him slightly recover, but each time, he would return far worse. In the end, he had lost the strength and sensation in his arms and legs, had several torn ligaments and tendons, and was losing his sense of vision and taste as well. He also had a colostomy bag and foley catheter in place, and an open wound on his foot which was infected

He was an emergency medicine doctor for over 40 years, and a first responder during 9/11. While working out at a nearby Equinox, he witnessed the World Trade Center attack first hand. Instead of taking cover, he bravely ran into the smoke and chaos and helped those he could. He had saved thousands of lives over the course of his career and epitomized what it meant to be a real hero, yet he was humble and hardly mentioned it. Although he touched so many lives, sadly there aren’t a lot of people that know what he went through in his final moments.

As a doctor himself, he had the unique perspective of experiencing healthcare from both sides. In his final days, he mentioned to me how the American healthcare system had unfortunately gone down the shitter. He too felt like he was making his final laps around the drain. I see it too now first hand how the healthcare system in the US needs a major overhaul. He would mention to the attending physician his signs and symptoms, what the diagnosis was, and how it should be treated, but his concerns fell on deaf ears.Throughout his several hospitalizations, he said he was experiencing medical malpractice first hand, but there was nothing he could do. Healthcare professionals weren’t taking care of him properly, but he was trapped in his own body and helpless. A system that should be helping the vulnerable and listening to their patients had ironically failed him. His situation felt truly hopeless and he was even contemplating suicide.

I tried my best to help him out as much as I could, but as his situation went from bad to worse, his health kept deteriorating. I had seen him a week before he died, and through the months leading up to this moment he had pretty much become bed bound. From initially meeting this man who was physically active and full of life, to becoming a prisoner in his own body was hard for me to see. Through it all, he still held onto his sense of humor and charisma to keep his sanity. He told me he no longer feared the end as it was always something meant to be. However, we both knew though that it wasn’t going to be a happy ending for him.

I wanted to document his unique struggle which is the human experience so everyone knows what he went through. Let us remember him for who he was and commemorate his memory. You are finally at rest and no longer suffering my friend.