Obituary Avedis Donabedian, Retired Professor of Public Health at U of M
ANN ARBOR, MI - Avedis Donabedian died peacefully of metastatic prostate cancer in sight of his beloved Eberwhite Woods on November 9, 2000.
The eldest son of Dr. Samuel and Maritza Donabedian, Avedis was born in Beirut, Lebanon 81 years ago. He received his MD degree from the American University of Beirut. He then came to America to obtain a Master's degree in Public Health at Harvard. He entered a life of teaching and research in public health, obtaining international renown.
Dr. Donabedian rose to held the Nathan Sinai Professorship in Public Health at the University of Michigan. He retired in 1988 but continued to lecture throughout the world until 1999.
An interview with Dr. Donabedian, published in the May 24, 1997 issue of the Armenian Reporter Int'l, offers more information about his work.
Among his numerous honors are a charter membership in the Institute of Medicine of the National Academy of Sciences, the George Welch Medal of the American Medical Association and the Sedgwick Medal of the U.S. Public Health Association. He was a honorary member of the National Academy of Medicine of Mexico and the Royal College of General Practitioners of the United Kingdom.
There are foundations in Dr. Avedisian's name that have been established in Italy, Spain and Argentina. He authored eight books and numerous articles. After retirement, he was most proud of his poetry, some of which was published in Italian.
He is survived by his wife, Dorothy; his sons, Haig, Bairj, and Armen; his sister, Margaret; brothers Hovhannes and Christopher; and four grandchildren.
The following poem was written two weeks before his death.
It is Autumn now; the trees like
Peasant brides are coined in gold;
The sun is golden too. The air
Falls silent now the birds departing
As winter pecks.
Come Christmas next,
All coinage spent,
whiteness replacing,
Will there be me?
Shaping in me a quiet jubilation,
A marvelous stillness.
I hear Him whisper
In my ear his precious secret
When you feel most abandoned
I'm most near
I feel in me a vast sun rising
To burn me to a crisp, or else
To let me free.
|