1932-1987 Biography
Early in December, 1987, Michael Bilitch died after little more than a year from the onset of symptoms. Sadly, his pain began while he was working with his colleagues on a forthcoming NASPE examination. Many of his friends and patients became aware of his suffering and suffered along with him. He was much loved and admired.
Mike was known for many things, but particularly for his qualities as a teacher of clinical cardiology. His students at USC (residents, fellows, medical students, and attendings) and those fortunate enough to have attended his lectures at the ACC meetings at Heart House over the past decade will always remember his unique and innovative ways of teaching: the problem cases, in which each step of a clinical problem was presented and discussed in detail, the next step being hidden from everyone until the propitious moment. No aspect of patient care was ignored, including the patient's personal and social problems. The material was presented logically, and always with gentleness, humor, and humility. Often there were no evident correct solutions. It was a picture of the way Mike looked at things-lots of dilemmas with no absolute answers.
He was a man of the world who loved to travel, and would do so at little provocation. Perhaps this was a carry-over from his youth, for he was born in Yugoslavia and received much of his preliminary education in the Keswick School in Cumberland, England. After moving to this country he attended college at Miami University in Ohio, majoring in microbiology, and completed his medical education at USC where he remained for postgraduate training as well. He was appointed associate professor in 1971. His travels were encouraged by all sorts of people who sought his talents as a teacher or counselor-educational organizations, manufacturers, governmental groups, and national and international societies. He would take "the red-eye" flights, sleep an hour or two, remain uncomplaining and attentive through hours of meetings, and contribute more than his share to the subject at hand. Such was his popularity and prestige that he often was forced to combine several meetings in one trip.
He entered the world of medical writing impressively, with the publication of the first documented and unequivocal case of ventricular fibrillation from competitive pacing. Thereafter he made important contributions to pacemaker nomenclature (the mode code), and toward organizing a national pacemaker registry, which continues to this day, 10 years after its inception. The initial joint report appeared, fittingly enough, in the first issue of PACE. It provides us with the only ongoing, reliable, and irrefutable source of information on pulse-generator performance.
Mike was one of the founders of NASPE and the ICPES, and has been on the editorial board of PACE from the beginning. During the past year, determined to recover, he accepted the unanimous nomination to be President of NASPE for 1987-88, and Secretary General of the next quadrennial meeting of ICPES, planned for Washington, D.C. in 1991.
Twenty-five years ago, at various get-togethers of colleagues and friends, an unofficial pacemaker "club" gradually came into existence. Its members were six young cardiologists and surgeons who were interested in cardiac pacing. Even as pacing grew in clinical importance and drew many more people into its orbit, the original group tended to stick together, cementing a friendship quite apart from local and family ties. Mike was one of us-a comrade, a confidant, an advisor. We were thrown together on many occasions over the years, often for days at a time, in various cities and States, in Europe, South America, Asia, the Middle East, meeting in conference rooms, lecture halls, motels, federal office buildings, airport lounges, or coffee houses, and talking about everything there was to discuss, from the practical matters at hand to life and death. Mike led us along, finding the way for us through political and organizational mazes, showing us how to teach, helping us make wise and practical decisions, and finding new ways to think and act. And now he is the first of that group to have passed on. It is not likely that his influence and presence will ever be replaced.
There was no better friend. He was warm and earnest, and an enthusiastic conversationalist. One remembers him for his genuine and affectionate concern for the well-being of others, and for the generosity of his attention and time. The depth of his compassion was immeasurable: he never forgot what he was told, and would follow up on one's problems. He had an avuncular way with him, so that such contacts never failed to make one feel better. These traits also made him a superb clinician, and a "doctor's doctor,"-a most flattering honorific.
Though to the outside world Mike was a success in his professional life, he often carried with him an aura of heavy sadness. One had the feeling that he sometimes found himself unfulfilled, as though there were something missing. There was a sense of cynicism and bewilderment about him, too, as if some of the good things that came to him were hollow and meaningless. Although he was a private person, rarely discussing himself or his personal life, on occasion he revealed some of these thoughts to those close to him. But if matters became too unsettling, after a moment or two of contemplation he would rebound in laughter. That's life, he seemed to say, and would let things pass, helpless to ponder the mysteries around him.
There is nothing more revealing than how one handles the knowledge of impending death. When he learned that he had cancer his first response was to explain his problem to anyone who asked, but as time passed he became more careful. He worked hard to come to grips with the inevitable, and acted as if he would go on forever. Not three weeks before he died he traveled cross-country, laying plans for the 1991 ICPES meeting in Washington, and supervising the forthcoming] NASPE meeting, despite evident extreme suffering. He had accepted the obligations inherent in the tasks, and was determined to finish as much as possible. One often thinks of patients with terminal disease as being deniers, but that was not Mike's mechanism. He fell back on reason, and an unusual strength of character to carry him through.
If anything, he was plagued with concern for his family. He agonized over how they would make out without him, and what he could do to ensure their future welfare. To make it easier for them he remained stoic and forward-looking. His concerns were more for others than for himself.
We mourn our immense loss, and share in the grief of Mike's family and of his many friends.
- Victor Parsonnet, M.D.
