As a surgeon who specialized in complex head and facial reconstruction, Dr. Michael E. Goldman often did procedures that lasted longer than most people’s workdays, but even after one of those marathons, he still had time to look at a friend’s child with a runny nose.
“Anyone who had a problem, a sore throat or a mole on their face, he would say, `Just bring them over to the house. I’ll be home at 11,'” his friend Michael Goldberg said. “You would realize you worked eight hours and were tired, while Michael got up at 4:30, did a 12-hour surgery, did some paperwork, and now he’s seeing my child at 11 o’clock.”
Dr. Goldman, 57, a Northbrook resident, died Saturday, June 3, at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences in Little Rock, where he was being treated for leukemia.
“He was just the kindest, most gentle, most special person ever,” his friend said. “It’s an unbelievable loss.”
A Chicago native who also lived in Glencoe, Dr. Goldman was board-certified in otolaryngology–matters of the ear, nose and throat–and a fellow of that specialty’s prestigious Triological Society. He also was certified in head and neck surgery and facial plastic and reconstructive surgery.
He was on staff at St. Francis Hospital in Evanston and Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago.
In 1985 he pioneered a computerized surgical technique, using a CT scanner and a piece of hip bone to repair the face of a woman badly disfigured in a car accident.
He also helped repair the genetically deformed face of a girl in 1987, one of the many times he donated his services to people who could not pay, his friend said.
“He was put on this earth to help others,” Goldberg said.
There was only one way Dr. Goldman could handle his workload, which included teaching at Northwestern University and the University of Illinois at Chicago, said his wife of 28 years, Lynne.
“He didn’t sleep. He never went to bed before 12, 12:30, and was always up at 5 a.m., seven days a week,” she said.
Golf was his main diversion, even though he did it mostly for the camaraderie, said Goldberg, his regular playing partner.
“We were terrible; we were the worst,” he said. “I used to joke with him, `How do I let the worst putter in the world operate on my family?'”
But, Goldberg said, many surgeons took family members to him, which Goldberg called “the ultimate sign of respect.”
Dr. Goldman learned 4 1/2 years ago that he had multiple myeloma, a virulent form of leukemia, and sought treatment in Arkansas.
“No matter how sick he felt, he believed it was his obligation to shield us from the seriousness of his condition,” Goldberg said. “When you asked how he felt, his response was always, `great,’ `pretty good’ or `OK.’ His next question was always, `How are you feeling and how are the kids?'”
He spent his last years raising money for the Friends of the Israeli Defense Forces, which awards college scholarships to needy Israeli soldiers, his wife said.
Several couples were out to dinner recently without their friend, who was too sick to attend, when the waiter brought over a bottle of champagne. Dr. Goldman’s son, Jeffrey, who lives in Los Angeles, had just passed the bar exam, and the doctor wanted his friends to celebrate.
“He was just so good,” Goldberg said.
Other survivors include a daughter, Stacey; a sister, Donna Ruby; and his mother, Yetta.
Services have been held.
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dgibbard@tribune.com
