Obituary of Francis M. Bohan

Francis Matthew Bohan, MD died peacefully at home on February 4, 2013 after a long illness. He was the older son of Francis A. Bohan and Anne Necas Bohan. Born and raised in New York City, he was educated by the Christian Brothers attending Good Shepherd Grade School, Manhattan Prep, and Manhattan College and received those schools' highest honors. Dr. Bohan went on to graduate from Cornell University Medical College where he was selected for membership in the AOA Honor Society. Always interested in general surgery, he completed his training at the University Hospitals of Cleveland where he was the Chief Surgical Resident. After residency, he served in the U.S. Air Force achieving the rank of Major and was the Chief Surgeon and Head of Professional Services at Loring Air Force Base in Limestone, Maine. Following his tour of duty, Frank moved his young family to Olean in 1970 where he joined the Olean Medical Group and practiced general surgery for 31 years. He performed surgery at both of the Olean Hospitals and was admired and respected by patients, doctors, nurses and staff. Many of these same people helped him in the sometimes difficult phases of his illness when they reached out to him in friendship. At various times throughout his career Dr. Bohan had many leadership roles on the Medical Staffs of St. Francis and Olean General Hospitals. At St. Francis Hospital, he had served as Chief of Surgery, Chief of Emergency Services and was a member of the Board of Trustees. He was also president of the Medical Staff and Chief of Staff at Olean General Hospital, as well as serving on the Board of Trustees and chairing the Board's executive committee. During the formative years of the Cattaraugus County EMT training programs, he was a driving force in creating a single emergency service for both Olean hospitals and having full-time, in-house emergency room physicians to better serve the patients of this community. He was very involved in the eventual merger of the Olean General and St. Francis Hospitals. At the Olean Medical Group, Frank served as member and Chairman of the Executive Committee for many years. Frank was a member of many professional societies including the American College of Surgeons, the Cattaraugus County Medical Society, and the New York State Society of General Surgeons. Deeply committed to community service he was active, particularly after his retirement from medicine, with the Greater Olean Association of Churches, Cattaraugus Region Community Foundation, Interfaith Caregivers, Allegany River Valley Trail, and the Concerned Citizens of Cattaraugus County. In 2003 Frank was honored with the YMCA Salute to Olean Award. He enthusiastically supported Christmas in April and was active at St. John's Church as a lector, a member of the outdoor decorating and landscaping committees, a Pre Cana program facilitator and a worker at the Festa Italiana . Frank was honored for his surgical care and kindness to many members of the Seneca Nation when they awarded him an honorary membership in the Hawk Clan. The Seneca name given to him was "da yah dae tah" meaning "He Cuts People". Frank relished his time outdoors, and was frequently seen enjoying Olean's four seasons whether it was hiking with his Briard dog, cross country or downhill skiing, or sailing on Cuba Lake. His major indoor hobbies were working on his elaborate train setup and building model ships. What better way to pass the time while "on-call"! Frank is survived by his sons James and Edward of Harrisburg, PA and Matthew (Liesl) of Lansing, MI., grandchildren Kelly and Timothy of Lansing; a brother Joseph (Patricia) of Olean a niece and nephew and several cousins. Of great comfort to Frank and his family, he is also survived by a very special friend, Maureen Sheahan. He was predeceased by his parents and his wife Martha Yurick Bohan. Visitation will be held at Letro-McIntosh Spink Funeral Home, 646 East State Street, Olean from 7 - 9 PM on Friday Feb. 8th. A Funeral Mass will be held at St. John's Roman Catholic Church, 931 North Union Street, Olean on Saturday Feb. 9th at 10AM. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions, if desired, may be made to St. John's Church 931 North Union Street, Olean, NY 14760. Francis M. Bohan, MD eulogy delivered by Matthew Bohan - February 9, 2013 I'd like to thank all of you for being here today. It is comforting to see so many of the people touched by Dad's life. Each person here knew my Dad in a slightly different way. To get to know him was easy. He was charming, outgoing, confident, funny, and intelligent. He loved to talk, tell stories and jokes. To many people here, he was Dr. Bohan. To others he was Frank from the ski slopes, rollerblading on the river trail, or sailing up at Cuba Lake. It's also possible that you knew him as Frank with the insane dogs. To a select few he was Grandpa, Dad, Uncle Frank, cousin, dear friend or brother. Dad was a bit like Superman's Clark Kent, only he had many different identities. There was Dr. Francis M. Bohan, MD. Instead of the cape, he had his scrubs. That was probably the identity he was most comfortable with. He defined himself by that role. He was cool, quick thinking and in control. Always confident in making tough decisions quickly, as well as comforting people while delivering tough news. Dad talked about work all the time, even at dinner.which isn't always good if you are surgeon! He didn't hold back any gory details. When I was in grad school, I went in to watch Dad operate. In the OR I saw and understood him in a new way. At home I only saw a portion of his personality. The rest of him was reserved for the hospital. I thought to myself, "He is completely at ease here, fully in his element: serious and decisive through all the tough parts and then cracking jokes as soon as the pressure was off." Medicine was a team sport to him, and he craved it. He especially loved being the captain of that team. He loved his teammates, his partners, the nurses and talking about the victories. Some of us got to know Dad in different ways because he had so many interests and skills. Many knew Dad because of trains. He had a colossal model railroad in the basement. It started with a gift from Uncle Joe to my brother Jim. I'm not sure if Jim ever got to play with those trains! In the decades that followed, the trains grew and morphed into something else: it was our Dad's HO scaled universe in the basement modeled remotely after Olean. When Dad got sick he spent lots of time in the basement with the trains. On many visits Ted and I would try to chase down the electrical gremlins that started to plaque his trains. While on my back looking at 6 million wires, it occurred to me that the railroad was much like Dad. On the exterior they were both bigger than life. Most people saw the finished products and said, "WOW! Amazing," astonished at how skilled, clever, detailed and complex they were. Few saw all the tremendous work and evolution that took place. Fewer still got a glimpse underneath to see all the wiring. Behind the scenes of his railroad were seemingly millions of connections. The wiring on Dad's train layout had no color-coding, and for the most part, no labeling. He just remembered where everything went. Dad wasn't a fan of electrical tape or electrical twist connectors. He'd just cut the wires, strip them and twist them together. done.. good enough. The fact that it didn't continually short out still baffles me. Looking at this wiring tells you a few very important things about Dad. One, he was a man of Faith, and two, he was a very, very lucky guy, because it shouldn't have worked with any consistency. Seeing Dad's trains told you about his optimism. He saw the possibilities in things. He could easily overlook the parts that weren't working quite right and lose himself where he could have fun. Those were skills that worked for him in relationships as well. The greatest constant in our Dad's life was his brother Joe. They were friends through the best of times and the worst. Put them together and things always got interesting. For example, they talked their parents into getting a Dalmatian while their family lived in a one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan. There is also rumor of two boys collecting a mountain of discarded Christmas trees to make a bonfire. Dad often told stories of their antics growing up together, and he would have to stop talking because he was laughing so hard. When Uncle Joe and Aunt Pat moved to Olean, Dad was ecstatic. The camaraderie, pranks and jokes were just beginning. Four years ago the tables were turned, and Dad went from being the Doctor to the Patient. This ended up being a role that Dad shone in. His treatments left him tired and terribly confused at times. He lost and regained his voice only to lose it again. He struggled his way back many times, always maintaining his sense of humor and optimism, trying to enjoy every day. And he did. He rekindled old friendships and made new ones, including Mo, who brought him a tremendous amount of joy, friendship and comfort. It is also important at this time to say some "thank yous," for there is much about Dad's life for which we are grateful. We are grateful to God for Dad's good life. Most of his seventy years were spent entirely free of any health problems. When he was diagnosed with cancer, he was given four months to live. Yet he would live four rich years after the diagnosis, almost entirely free of pain. We are grateful to Fr. Ed for his dedication and ministering to Dad's spiritual needs during his long illness. Among other things, Dad and the family were very moved when Fr. Ed returned early from vacation and delivered a touching homily at Martha's funeral Mass. We are grateful for those of you here today who have been Dad's colleagues, neighbors, and friends over the years. Your affection and appreciation meant the world to Dad, and when he became ill, you couldn't have been more supportive. Your meals, visits, conversations, car rides and emails reminded him that-despite his illness-he was still very much a part of your life, and they sustained him through his darkest days. We are grateful to Mo, who grew close to Dad in his last two years, and could not have been more devoted to him. Despite having fought her own battle with cancer and watching her brother die of the same disease, Mo was a great and constant comfort to Dad as his illness progressed to its conclusion. Finally, we are grateful to Aunt Pat and Uncle Joe for all their love and support for Dad during his life and particularly since his diagnosis with cancer and Martha's death. The most important thing to Dad was to live a life that was as normal as possible for as long as possible. But for their tireless efforts, Dad's final years would have turned out far differently. When we were young, Dad often had stamps from Boys Town around the house, depicting one boy carrying another and bearing the motto, "He ain't heavy. He's my brother." Aunt Pat and Uncle Joe have lived that motto over the past few years, and they made Dad's final years immeasurably richer because of it.