Sunday, April 29, 2012
Dr. Richard K. Olney, Felled by the Disease He Studied
Dr. Richard K. Olney, a leading physician and pioneer in clinical research on amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, died of the disease on Jan. 27, 2012 at his home in Corte Madera, Calif. He was 64.
His death was announced by the University of California, San Francisco, where Dr. Olney had been the director of the A.L.S. Treatment and Research Center before learning in 2004 that he himself had the disease.
A.L.S. is a degenerative condition of the nerves in the brain and spinal cord that gradually robs the patient of the ability to use the muscles, trapping the victim in an increasingly unresponsive body.
Many A.L.S. patients die within two years, but Dr. Olney survived more than eight after his diagnosis. In that time he was able to see both of his children get married and to see the birth of his first grandchild, who is named after him.
“That’s why he lived so long: he was fighting to see those important milestones,” said Dr. Catherine Lomen-Hoerth, a neurologist who was trained at the clinic by Dr. Olney, and who took over in 2004 when the illness forced him to retire. She then directed his care.
Nicholas T. Olney, Dr. Olney’s son, said that his father maintained a disciplined and upbeat outlook through the course of his illness. “Once he accepted his diagnosis, he had this attitude that he could make the most of each day,” he recalled. “He didn’t let the next muscle group, the next ability he lost, get him down.”
As he explained in an interview with The New York Times in 2005, Dr. Olney first experienced stiffness in his right leg and loss of coordination in 2003. The initial diagnosis was a herniated disk. He underwent surgery, but his physical slide continued.
By May 2005, he had noticed that his right arm was growing stiff and slow. He then gave himself a common test for A.L.S.: counting the number of times he could tap his fingers in 10 seconds. He knew that he could normally tap 65 times; he had slowed to 55.
“I knew I had A.L.S. then,” Dr. Olney recalled.
A quiet man, Dr. Olney did not seek publicity until he was struck by the disease. When he retired from the clinic, he set up an endowment and agreed to cooperate with journalists in order to build support for the institution. “He wanted to make sure the A.L.S. center would continue after he was gone,” Dr. Lomen-Hoerth said.
In a statement, Lucie Bruijn, chief scientist of the A.L.S. Association, remembered Dr. Olney “not only as a courageous person with A.L.S., but someone who was an outstanding clinician and scientist who made major contributions both for patients and the scientific field.”
Richard Knox Olney was born on Dec. 15, 1947, in Munich, to Lt. Col. Frank and Frances Olney. His family later settled in Norman, Okla. He graduated Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Oklahoma in 1968 with a bachelor’s degree in chemistry, mathematics and zoology, and earned a degree in medicine from Baylor College of Medicine in 1973. He received further medical training at the University of California, Los Angeles, and the University of Oregon Health Sciences Center.
At U.C.S.F. he was known as a hard worker whose hours stunned his colleagues. “He had always told me that the extra time he put in was where he got to do the fun stuff, like research,” said his son, Nick, who is will begin his medical residency in neurology this fall.
In addition to his son, Dr. Olney is survived by his wife of 38 years, the former Paula Louise Zucal; a daughter, Amy Koch Olney Dobbs; his brother, Frank Jr.; and his grandson.
Dr. Olney and his son were working on a research paper together during his final months, focused on the use of nerve responses to predict the likely course of illness in A.L.S. patients. Dr. Lomen-Hoerth will help Nick Olney finish the paper.
Toward the end, Dr. Olney communicated with the world through a computer that responded to his eye movements, with the words appearing on a screen.
Since October, his ability to breathe had gradually diminished. But he continued to send and receive e-mail, and visited the clinic the week before he died to take part in a research project.
As he got ready to leave, Dr. Lomen-Hoerth recalled: “One of the last things he tapped out was, ‘goodbye.’ I think he knew it was his last visit.”
“That,” she added, “was a hard thing to see on the screen.”
Dr. Richard K. Olney, a leading physician and pioneer in clinical research on amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, died of the disease on Jan. 27, 2012 at his home in Corte Madera, Calif. He was 64.
His death was announced by the University of California, San Francisco, where Dr. Olney had been the director of the A.L.S. Treatment and Research Center before learning in 2004 that he himself had the disease.
A.L.S. is a degenerative condition of the nerves in the brain and spinal cord that gradually robs the patient of the ability to use the muscles, trapping the victim in an increasingly unresponsive body.
Many A.L.S. patients die within two years, but Dr. Olney survived more than eight after his diagnosis. In that time he was able to see both of his children get married and to see the birth of his first grandchild, who is named after him.
“That’s why he lived so long: he was fighting to see those important milestones,” said Dr. Catherine Lomen-Hoerth, a neurologist who was trained at the clinic by Dr. Olney, and who took over in 2004 when the illness forced him to retire. She then directed his care.
Nicholas T. Olney, Dr. Olney’s son, said that his father maintained a disciplined and upbeat outlook through the course of his illness. “Once he accepted his diagnosis, he had this attitude that he could make the most of each day,” he recalled. “He didn’t let the next muscle group, the next ability he lost, get him down.”
As he explained in an interview with The New York Times in 2005, Dr. Olney first experienced stiffness in his right leg and loss of coordination in 2003. The initial diagnosis was a herniated disk. He underwent surgery, but his physical slide continued.
By May 2005, he had noticed that his right arm was growing stiff and slow. He then gave himself a common test for A.L.S.: counting the number of times he could tap his fingers in 10 seconds. He knew that he could normally tap 65 times; he had slowed to 55.
“I knew I had A.L.S. then,” Dr. Olney recalled.
A quiet man, Dr. Olney did not seek publicity until he was struck by the disease. When he retired from the clinic, he set up an endowment and agreed to cooperate with journalists in order to build support for the institution. “He wanted to make sure the A.L.S. center would continue after he was gone,” Dr. Lomen-Hoerth said.
In a statement, Lucie Bruijn, chief scientist of the A.L.S. Association, remembered Dr. Olney “not only as a courageous person with A.L.S., but someone who was an outstanding clinician and scientist who made major contributions both for patients and the scientific field.”
Richard Knox Olney was born on Dec. 15, 1947, in Munich, to Lt. Col. Frank and Frances Olney. His family later settled in Norman, Okla. He graduated Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Oklahoma in 1968 with a bachelor’s degree in chemistry, mathematics and zoology, and earned a degree in medicine from Baylor College of Medicine in 1973. He received further medical training at the University of California, Los Angeles, and the University of Oregon Health Sciences Center.
At U.C.S.F. he was known as a hard worker whose hours stunned his colleagues. “He had always told me that the extra time he put in was where he got to do the fun stuff, like research,” said his son, Nick, who is will begin his medical residency in neurology this fall.
In addition to his son, Dr. Olney is survived by his wife of 38 years, the former Paula Louise Zucal; a daughter, Amy Koch Olney Dobbs; his brother, Frank Jr.; and his grandson.
Dr. Olney and his son were working on a research paper together during his final months, focused on the use of nerve responses to predict the likely course of illness in A.L.S. patients. Dr. Lomen-Hoerth will help Nick Olney finish the paper.
Toward the end, Dr. Olney communicated with the world through a computer that responded to his eye movements, with the words appearing on a screen.
Since October, his ability to breathe had gradually diminished. But he continued to send and receive e-mail, and visited the clinic the week before he died to take part in a research project.
As he got ready to leave, Dr. Lomen-Hoerth recalled: “One of the last things he tapped out was, ‘goodbye.’ I think he knew it was his last visit.”
“That,” she added, “was a hard thing to see on the screen.”
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