Tomorrow, June 17th, marks the one-year anniversary of Andy Ovassapian’s passing. It’s hard to believe that a year’s gone by. I know I’m not the only one who misses him. Sometimes I swear I catch a glimpse of him somewhere in the hospital; but, when I turn around, it’s not him. Or I’ll see some guy with some weird facial feature and think, whoa, THAT’S an Andy-Airway for sure!

Andy was just a great guy. A mentsch. I never heard him yell or saw him get mad. He was always there to lend a hand. Even if he had his own rooms to start, all you had to say was, “Andy, I got this guy….” and he’d be there for you. Unexpected difficult airway? He seemed to appear outta nowhere; not to steal the show, but to calmly guide you through. Then POOF! he was gone. He didn’t need fanfare or praise. He was just doing what he did best.

And what that best was! He never made you feel like you had eggplants instead of fingers, even if maybe you did. Never made you feel bad about yourself. He was patient (oh GOD! was he patient!) and easy to understand. He kept it simple. How many times would he laugh and say (in that sweet Armenian accent) ” Oh, you young people! Why you make tings so complicated? Is simple!”. He’d let you struggle a bit, too, if need be, knowing that sometimes it’s through mistakes that lessons are best learned. He’d encourage you; he’d praise your victories and use your failures as a means to teach. You always learned things from him, and not just about airways. He taught you how to look at things logically. Simply. To remember the basics. A “good job!” and a clap on the back from Andy made your day. It really meant a lot.

You knew you were gonna have a good day if Andy was your attending, even if the cases were gonna be miserable. He was kind and jovial, always concerned. He could lighten things up when you were stressed. He was generous. [editorial comment, Marc and Fakih are 2 CRNAs in our department who are Army reservists who have spent a lot of time in Afghanistan and Iraq] He was always the first to contribute when I’d send packages to Marc. He’d see me and make me stay put so he could go to his office to get some money right then and there. Every day Marc and Fakih were gone, Andy asked about their families, if they were ok. If they needed anything. He always said, let me know what I can do. And he meant it.

We were so lucky to have Andy. Everyone loved and respected him, from housekeeping staff and transporters right on up to the surgeons in their ivory towers. It’s too bad you new guys didn’t have the chance to know him, to learn from him. But all the airway stuff we pass on to you came from him. Things you take for granted. It’s hard to imagine a time when there were no LMA’s. No fiberoptics. No way to manage a difficult airway with anything but a trache. Because of Andy’s contributions to anesthesia, airways aren’t impossible anymore, and people who very well could have died if you lost the airway, survived.

So. Think of Andy tomorrow. Remember what a wonderful teacher and colleague he was to all of us. Remember what a great friend we lost.

And the next time you’re faced with the airway from hell, remember that he’s there in the back of your mind showing you the way.

God bless ya, Andy O…

Eileen Marcet, CRNA
Department of Anesthesia & Critical Care
The University of Chicago