Happy Birthday Dr. Sherika Newman

The Palliative Lens

Andrew Esch

This weekend my wife, Andrea, and I are flying to Atlanta to celebrate our friend Sherika's 50th birthday.

Medicine has given me a lot over the past thirty years.

It’s given me purpose. It has given me heartbreak. It has given me mentors, students, patients I’ll never forget, and opportunities I never imagined as a boy growing up in Buffalo New York.

But every once in a while, medicine gives you something you never knew you needed.

It gives you a friend.

I’ve known Dr. Sherika Newman for nearly fifteen years now. On paper, our stories couldn’t have been much more different. We grew up in different worlds, with different experiences, different perspectives, and different journeys into medicine. If someone had introduced us as kids and asked whether our paths would someday cross, I doubt either of us would have believed it.

And yet somehow, we ended up standing in exactly the same place…..both believing that medicine is ultimately about showing up for people when life is at its hardest.

I often think back to the day I met her her. She was interviewing for a position we had posted for a staff physician at Lee Health ( Lee Memorial Health System back then).

At the time, I had already convinced myself that I knew who my first physician hire as a the new medical director would be. I was certain it would be one of my former fellows from Buffalo, a talented physician whom I respected tremendously. In my mind, the decision was practically made before the interviews even started.

Then I met Sherika.

I’ll never forget sitting at lunch with her and our Vice President of Oncology. Before any of us had even ordered an entrée, Sherika confidently ordered dessert.

I remember thinking, Who does that?

It was unexpected.

It was her.

But over the next couple of hours, the conversation shifted from amusing to unforgettable. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. She wasn’t reciting the right answers.

She wasn’t interviewing for a job.

• She was talking about patients.

• She talked about dignity.

• She talked spirituality and faith.

• She talked about suffering.

• She talked about the responsibility physicians have to advocate for people who often don’t have anyone else willing to fight for them.

  
  

There was a conviction in her words that stopped me in my tracks. I drove home that evening and told Andrea, “I think I just met someone more passionate about palliative medicine than me.”

.

I’ve spent my career surrounded by remarkable clinicians and people , but every so often you encounter someone whose passion is so authentic that it forces you to examine your own.

Sherika wasn’t just passionate about palliative care. She believed in people. She believed every patient deserved someone who refused to give up on them simply because the disease couldn’t be cured.

I realized that day that my first hire wasn’t going to be the person I thought it would be.

It was going to be Sherika.

I’ve never regretted that decision for a second.

Over the years we’ve built programs together, wrestled with impossible cases, celebrated victories, and carried losses that only people in this work can fully understand.

But somewhere along the way, our relationship stopped being only about work.

This week we are honored to celebrate Sherika’s 50th birthday with her.

• Not because she’s a colleague.

• Not because she’s someone I once hired.

  
  

Because she’s become family to us.

• Sherika has watched our children grow up.

• She was there to celebrate our daughter’s engagement.

• We've watched her ( and hopefully supported her ) take care of her mother in hospice

• We've watched her family celebrate milestones of their own.

• We’ve sat side by side for a Bills vs Dolphins game (her dolphins won👎🏻)

• We’ve sat in church together in a foreign country

• We've run from snakes on a hike in Arizona

• We’ve disagreed

• We’ve called each other for help.

• We’ve presented at conferences together.

• My wife now drives a Tesla after driving in Sherika's

  
  

These days our conversations are just as likely to be about life as they are about medicine.

That may be one of the greatest gifts this profession has given me.

Medicine often convinces us that success is measured by titles, publications, promotions, or the size of the programs we build.

I’ve had opportunities to experience many of those things. But looking back, those aren’t what I treasure most.

I treasure the people.

The friendships forged in hospital hallways, conference rooms, or zoom calls. The colleagues who become confidants. The people who challenge you to become a better physician, a better leader, and an even better human being.

Sherika has done all of those things for me.

Our backgrounds were different.

Our stories started in different places.

Yet somehow they arrived at the same destination.

Maybe that’s one of medicine’s quiet miracles.

Not that it teaches us how different we are.

But that, if we let it, it teaches us how much we have in common.

Happy 50th birthday, Sherika.

Thank you for making me a better physician.

More importantly, thank you for making me a better person.

See you Sunday!