Many people who come to the downtown Phoenix clinic of Sister Adele O’Sullivan, C.S.J., M.D., spend their nights in cars, under highway overpasses, by railroad tracks and in shelters for the homeless. “Family medicine is the only thing that trains people to work in a place like this,” said O’Sullivan, the 2006 AAFP Family Physician of the Year and medical director of the Health Care for the Homeless Program in Phoenix.
2006 Family Physician of the Year Serves the Homeless
By Jane Stoever
• AAFP Assembly San Francisco
9/28/2005
Sister Adele O'Sullivan, C.S.J., M.D.
“I’m grateful for my training,” she said. Her education and experience -- in areas including behavioral health, substance abuse, OB-Gyn and geriatrics -- have equipped her to care for pregnant women, mothers with children, people with addictions and the elderly. “I see people who should be in nursing homes, but they’re living on the street,” said O’Sullivan, who was honored during the opening ceremony yesterday.
O’Sullivan was co-author and medical facilitator for a series of documents on care of the homeless from the National Health Care for the Homeless Council, Nashville, Tenn. “We took standard clinical guidelines and adapted them for the homeless,” said O’Sullivan. “Those who’ve done this kind of work know that what works for the 'First World' doesn’t work for the homeless.”
Clinic in the Soup Line
Every Monday night, O’Sullivan and any resident or medical student working with her stage a mini-clinic at a nearby soup line. “We get people who have no contact with the established medical system -- the usual things such as infections, hypertension, diabetes, and also stab wounds, lots of trauma, all kinds of contusions. It’s a violent culture on our streets,” said O’Sullivan.
She might treat someone for athlete’s foot and realize they need a pelvic exam or counseling for mental health or substance abuse. “The whole point of the soup line is engagement,” said O’Sullivan. “We meet the people where they are, and then they have a name and a face.” She advises them to come see her at her clinic a block away the next day.
She might treat someone for athlete’s foot and realize they need a pelvic exam or counseling for mental health or substance abuse. “The whole point of the soup line is engagement,” said O’Sullivan. “We meet the people where they are, and then they have a name and a face.” She advises them to come see her at her clinic a block away the next day.
Francisco's Thanks
Francisco came to the clinic in November. “I can’t swallow,” he said. “Just listening to his story, you knew it might be an esophageal obstruction,” said O’Sullivan.
He was uninsured and homeless, had no family and slept on the street.
O’Sullivan was right about the diagnosis: esophageal cancer. “It was a real struggle to get the man what he needed,” she said. Using donations and partnering with local institutions, O’Sullivan and the clinic staff arranged for Francisco to have the most sophisticated surgery available, then found him a bed in a homeless shelter.
But Francisco got pneumonia. “We knew he had a terminal illness,” said O'Sullivan. She, her nurses and her physician assistant provided his terminal care in the shelter until two weeks before he died, when they transferred him to a hospice.
Francisco’s last words to O’Sullivan: “Thank you for being so kind.”
He was uninsured and homeless, had no family and slept on the street.
O’Sullivan was right about the diagnosis: esophageal cancer. “It was a real struggle to get the man what he needed,” she said. Using donations and partnering with local institutions, O’Sullivan and the clinic staff arranged for Francisco to have the most sophisticated surgery available, then found him a bed in a homeless shelter.
But Francisco got pneumonia. “We knew he had a terminal illness,” said O'Sullivan. She, her nurses and her physician assistant provided his terminal care in the shelter until two weeks before he died, when they transferred him to a hospice.
Francisco’s last words to O’Sullivan: “Thank you for being so kind.”
