By Debra L. Glasser, MD
Last week, on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, our community lost Gerald “Jerry” Fay, MD.
Dr. Fay was my physician when I moved to Olympia 13 years ago. Being close to my age, I knew I would eventually lose him to retirement, but I did not expect our community would lose him so soon.
I was grateful to have Dr. Fay as my doctor. His private internal medicine practice, which he owned and managed for 40 years, was like mine. When physicians owned our practices, caring and advocating for our patients was our sole purpose. We knew relationships were essential to the trust and rapport that is clinically important in guiding diagnosis and treatment.
When I came to his office, Dr. Fay listened deeply as if I were the only person in the world that mattered to him. I had complete faith he would always do his best for me. Ours was a sacred relationship. His storytelling was also legendary. He always had some tale or update for me on our visits.
Dr. Fay touched the life of my partner, Baird Miller, in a different way.
Baird worked with Dr. Fay at Providence St. Peter’s IT department in the early 2000s.
They collaborated in developing web-based access to patients’ records. Their software streamlined access to laboratory and radiology results, reducing the need for phone calls and faxing by staff, and gave doctors immediate access to important patient data. This was at the cutting edge of bringing computers into medical care.
Dr. Fay was the visionary and passionate physician driver of this pioneer project that created Providence’s first electronic medical record (EMR) in Washington.
His leadership was an inspiration and model for Baird throughout his IT career.
At Dr. Fay’s funeral, I learned that I was not the only doctor who entrusted his care to Dr. Fay. It is a special distinction as a doctor to care for your colleagues — to be a doctor’s doctor.
More than 200 people formed a semi-circle around the gravesite at his Jewish burial service, led by Rabbi Seth Goldstein from Temple Beth Hatfiloh. According to a photo of his coffee mug in the funeral’s memory book, Dr. Fay was “50% Jewish, 50% Irish, and 100% Perfect.”
The Rabbi shared that according to Jewish teachings, dying on Rosh Hashanah is reserved for a tzaddik. A tzaddik is a righteous, just and spiritually elevated person. Those present, including his beloved family, friends, colleagues, staff and former patients, were affirmations of that honor.
To know Dr. Fay in any capacity was to know “a lover of life and the person to light up a room,” as Rabbi Seth described him. He was kind, strong, and dogged in his passion for medicine and life. He held a high standard of excellence in all he did.
As the Rabbi was saying the final prayers, a pair of birds landed high in a tree above the gathering, looking down upon the passing of one of the Olympia medical community’s stars. Perhaps they stood to honor the beloved doctor team that Dr. Jerry and his wife, Sheila Fay, MD, were for this community.
May he rest in peace and may his memory be a blessing.
