by Adam Tripp
Sarah and I were different in a lot of ways. In our residency class, I was at the loud and obnoxious end of the spectrum, Sarah was at the other end. Sarah was shy, introverted, and could have a tendency to be grumpy and melancholic. She also had a wicked sense of humor, and some of the best one liners I have ever heard. She was also very kind, very thoughtful, generous to a fault, and really cared about her patients. She was also an excellent cook, and we all enjoyed her treats on Thursday afternoons, even those of us who didn’t like “vegan food.”
I wanted to write about two memories of Sarah, one from Hawaii in 2011, the other from last fall 2013.
The picture above is of the coast of Hawaii, where the American Psychiatric Association annual meeting was held in 2011. Every year the top 3 residency teams who scored highest on psychiatric board style questions competed for the top geek prize and bragging rights. Sarah was one of the team, whip smart as she was. Pitt was competing with Cornell and Boston University.
Leading up to the competition the day before I was wandering through the conference center and on one of the TVs showing various bits of commentary was Sarah Wolfe being interviewed. My recollection went something like this…
Reporter: “So Dr. Wolfe you and your colleagues will be competing tomorrow for the smartest residency team in psychiatry, correct?”
Sarah: “Yes, that is correct.”
Reporter:”So doctor, do you have any predictions about the game, feeling good?”
Sarah: “We’re going to win.”
Reporter: “You sound pretty sure, but BU and Cornell are pretty smart teams.”
Sarah: “Sure, but we’re still going to win.”
Reporter: “What would you say to the teams from Cornell and BU?”
Sarah: “I think they shouldn’t bother showing up, I mean what’s the point. They should give us the trophy by default and save everyone a lot of trouble.”
Reporter: “Well thank you Dr. Wolfe on behalf of the Pitt residency team. Sounds like the team to beat.”
And from the archive footage courtesy of Dr. Mike Travis:
Despite her usual quiet nature, Sarah could turn it on when she wanted to. Her humor is what I remember best, even when I was the butt of the joke. The last time I spoke to Sarah was last fall, when we were at a training for attending psychiatrists for residency OSCE training, clinical vignettes to assess residents’ knowledge using various patient scenarios. I had recently acquired a new leather bag which I quite liked, but perhaps was better suited as a travel bag rather than a briefcase. Sarah was sitting a couple of chairs away, and a dialogue ensued:
Sarah: “I don’t think your bag is quite big enough Adam.”
Adam: “Yeh, it’s a little much, but I never have to worry about leaving anything at home.”
Sarah: “Right, particularly after throwing your back out.”
Adam: “Good seeing you Sarah. How are you?”
Sarah: “My back is in good shape.”
We watched the training presentation, and as we were finishing up, continued our conversation…
Sarah: “So do you see patients in that bag, it looks roomy enough?”
Adam: (sigh) “No, just my computer and paperwork.”
Sarah: “I think maybe you should start a satellite clinic in there.”
Adam: “Yep, well, good seeing you again, have a good day.”
It was that kind of wit that I will miss the most. I have thought more about Sarah in the last week than I have since I graduated from residency in 2011. We were friends and residency classmates, and while I used to scoff at people who would talk about the special bond with their residency class, I now have to agree. Despite the terrible tragedy of her death Sarah will not be forgotten and will be remembered fondly, and hopefully those of us who knew her and cared about her can make something good out of this catastrophe.
I wish peace for Sarah, and peace for the rest of us. Thank you.
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