dr. alan siegel

Opthamalic surgeon Alan Siegel made a difference in the lives of countless patients over the course of his career and when he stopped performing surgery, it was because he had their best interests at heart.

After being diagnosed a year and a half ago of pancreatic cancer, he worked as long as he could using 100 percent of his skills. But when he grew weaker, he decided the delicate microsurgery he performed was no longer something he ought to do -- the last thing he wanted was to harm a patient.

"He loved his job, he really did," said Rosemary Siegel this afternoon, his wife of 28 years. "He had a wonderful practice with very fair and supportive people."

Dr. Siegel was with University Eye Specialists, on Summit Street in Batavia, for 15 years. He was known to be honest, intelligent and caring -- the rare kind of doctor who typically called patients after surgery to ask how they were doing.

Born in Brooklyn, raised in New Jersey, his first practice after medical school was on Long Island. Before that, he had been a physician's assistant, which is what he was when he met a certain registered nurse named Rosemary at Montefiore Hospital in the Bronx.

They fell in love, got married and he went to medical school.

"He went into opthamology because he liked microsurgery, he enjoyed that," Rosemary said. "And he had big hands, too, it's amazing."

The couple have two children, 26-year-old Jacqueline, and 22-year-old William. Both are residents of Millport, NY, and have taken leaves of absence to stay with their mother awhile. For nearly seven years, Rosemary has contended with ALS, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, commonly known as "Lou Gehrig's disease."

"Everyday when he'd come home from work, he'd pick me up off the couch and put me in my wheelchair. He took care of me. He never, ever once complained. That's the kind of man he was."

She said at times she felt like she was a burden, and told him so.

"He said 'I never want to hear you say that again. Ro, this is what we've been dealt in life and we just have to deal with it.'"

Like every couple, they occasionally had their differences but they never had a fight. At some point it dawned on William as a boy that his parents didn't fight like a lot of other parents.

"Mom, you and Daddy never fight. Why?" he asked.

I don't know, she told him, "maybe because we're best friends."

You've got to love a guy whose wife is so proud of the way he always loved and cared for his own mother, who lives in Florida. And who never missed his children's school plays or dance recitals or hockey games.

"Al loved hockey and he would scream so at the high school hockey games that he'd come home hoarse."

When the local team went to the state competition, the distinguished surgeon went wearing war paint on his face, toting a specially designed hockey stick.

"Oh God, they were a riot."

At the pro level, he was a die-hard fan of the Buffalo Sabres and in baseball, the Yankees.

His daughter has an extra-special memory of the time she spent with her dad on The Great White Way.

"My dad took me all over for auditions when I was applying for undergraduate (studies)," Jacqueline said. "We had to fly all around to private schools. One time we got off the plane, got on the subway, got a hotel and then went to see a couple of shows -- "The Producers" and "Chicago."

"My audition was the next day. I didn't get in, but we didn't care because we had a great vacation together, just the two of us."

Another great vacation took place three years ago at Christmas, when the whole extended family went on a cruise to the Mexican resort of Cozumel and Belize, in Central America.

The last vacation they would take as a family was last summer, after Alan had already been diagnosed with cancer. They rented a house in Hilton Head, S.C., were William was working as a lifeguard. They stayed a week, went parasailing, had a ball.

Great times were also had when Dr. Siegel and his friends jumped in their cars and went on a "road rally," a sort of mystery game.

"They'd get a clue, and blast off to the next clue," Rosemary said. "It took weeks to figure out the clues. People got lost, went to the wrong place. When they got all the clues, then they'd go back over the route.

"One year Al and Dr. (Gary) May put on masks and wigs on the road rally. They went into an old church. Then Dr. May didn't see or hear Al. Al had dropped through the floor. The next day he couldn't move his arm and Dr. (Matthew) Landfried had to give him a shot."

Whether it was electronics or snow skiing or any of the above, Dr. Siegel was a "take charge kinda guy" who enjoyed the camaraderie of friends. He didn't talk about doing things, he did them.

But this take-charge man also made a mean meatloaf, a tradition which began when Rosemary used to work nights on Mondays back in Long Island. Monday was meatloaf night.

Anytime was cookie time, however.

"He was a Cookie Monster," Rosemary said. "I made the chocolate chip cookies and he ate them."

This activity, more often than not, may have occurred while Dr. Siegel was in the company of his three-pound "terror." A rescued chihuahua named "Oji," who was his best pal and fiercely guarded him in his final days.

"When my husband was dying, 'Oji' never got off the bed," Rosemary said. "And if anybody tried to touch him, he went crazy. He protected him so much."

It's safe to say "Oji" is grieving for his master. Dr. Alan Siegel was only 57. He will be missed by many.

Dr. Siegel's obituary is available here.