Dear Félicien:
You left us, but I won’t write an
obituary. You would have said it yourself, with that twinkle in your eyes:
“this ain’t a place for obituaries.”
We met 22 years ago when I moved with my
family into your neighborhood in Larchmont, New York. You lived there on 12
Pryer Lane with your wife Michèle, your daughters Anne and Claire and your son
François, in your beautiful home overlooking Long Island Sound. The old BMW in
your driveway, with that big letter “L” on the bumper, let everyone know that
there was a true Luxembourger around. I knew you already as a “Living National
Monument”, for your incredible contributions to medical science. I came to learn
more about your tireless work, developing laparoscopic surgery.
Your neighbor, a surgeon himself, would
say how guilty he felt playing with his dogs while he knew that you were
working on yet another paper. I can still see you there, the lamp glowing on top
of that cypress table crafted by an Amish cabinetmaker. In this office, your creative genius would
produce dozens of scientific papers, to promote minimally invasive thoracic and
abdominal surgery. They cover the challenges of sutures and stapling, the
introduction of 3D in laparoscopic surgery together with new tools known as
“Tools of Steichen”.
For more than 48 years, after
graduating from the University of Lausanne, you left giant footprints at many
places such as Baltimore and Johns Hopkins Hospitals, Lenox, and Saint Agnes.
The crowning of your tremendous work and the worldwide recognition as the
great pioneer and professor was the creation of the Félicien M. Steichen
Chair of Surgery at New York Medical College in 1993, of which you became the
first holder. Among your many awards, this is the ultimate one.
We all remember you as the
discreet gentleman, who would be first in line to do anything “Luxembourg”.
We had such fun launching the Luxembourg-American Chamber of Commerce in New
York. I am most thankful for your ever open doors.
One day I needed your help as a
surgeon. I’m still wearing (proudly) the three tiny marks of laparoscopic incisions you made. And for sure the following
morning I left Saint Agnes all repaired. My wife and I mostly remember the
days of deep distress, when you showed up at our son’s hospital bed. Your
spontaneous travel to that place, your appearance in that hospital room has
done more than all medical science on earth.
Dear Félicien: You are a great
benefactor to mankind. Every morning, thousands of patients get readied for
surgery somewhere. Many will have an amazing recovery, thanks to your
pioneering work. They’ll say of their doctors what one of your friends told
me about you: “He saved my life!” At the LACC, you have touched ours. We send
our most heartfelt condolences to your family,
Egide Thein.
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