The news of Jay Fishman’s death Aug. 19 hit my colleagues and me like a ton of bricks. We had just spent an entire week with him at the Travelers Championship golf tournament; yet a mere 12 days later, he was gone.
Clinically, we understood. Personally, it was surreal.
Jay suffered from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis — a degenerative neuromuscular condition more commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease or ALS. The disease tortures its victims with a slow, almost methodical progression in which the nerve cells in the spinal cord and brain weaken until the patient is immobilized. While different patients experience varying levels of progression, the lack of a cure (“yet,” as Jay would point out) ensures the ultimate prognosis is exactly the same for every ALS patient on earth.
After his diagnosis, Jay, who until his death was Travelers Cos. Inc. executive chairman, framed his options as a mutually exclusive choice: “You stay engaged or you stay in bed.” To no one’s surprise, Jay stayed engaged.
Vowing to “lean in” to his ALS, Jay publicly committed himself to spending the rest of his life promoting ALS research and enhancing the patient experience. He and his colleagues at Travelers named our ALS Center at Hospital for Special Care in New Britain as the primary beneficiary of this year’s Travelers Championship. They provided valet parking, a climate-controlled tent and a special soft-food diet for more than 75 of our ALS patients and their families. More important, though, Jay and his wife Randy visited our patients every single day.
Golfer Jim Furyk’s historic 58 and Russell Knox’s 12-foot championship putt both paled in comparison to Jay’s daily visits. As soon as his motorized scooter began making its way down Corporate Row, a buzz filled the air. “Jay is coming, Jay is coming” you could hear our patients whisper in a frenzy; and by the time he arrived with his entourage in tow, golf took a back seat to meeting the man who had made it all happen.
Frail and weathered though they may have been, our patients waited on Jay as if he were a majestic king holding court at his only daughter’s wedding. He had never heard of (let alone met) any of these people, yet he talked to and with them as if they had been lifelong friends. When a patient would solemnly ask Jay how he was feeling, he’d flash a genuine broad smile and jest: “I’m terrific … other than a touch of ALS.”
One by one, Jay listened to patients’ stories, often touching a shoulder or grasping a hand as well as he could. The ease with which he spoke to them was striking; though not nearly as striking as the ease with which they talked to him. A neutral observer would have no idea one person in the conversation was a titan of the national insurance industry. All that our patients saw was a man — a wholly decent man — who like them had one of the most un-decent ailments imaginable.
Over the course of the week, hundreds of pictures were taken and dozens of hugs were given. Stories were shared and tears were shed, yet through it all Jay remained upbeat and optimistic. On paper, he gave our ALS patients a really nice opportunity to watch some golf; in reality, though, he gave them friendship, inspiration and — most of all — courage.
At one point, I shook Jay’s hand and thanked him once again for spending another day with our patients. He matter-of-factly brushed me off, saying, “No — thank you.” I looked at him, puzzled. “I need to be here,” he explained, gesturing toward his fellow ALS patients. “We lift each other up.”
I was utterly in awe. Instead of using his last Travelers Championship as a farewell tour, this extraordinary man had managed to turn it into the ultimate victory lap.
“I’ve lived a very blessed life,” Jay professed — and I couldn’t help but turn my thoughts to another ALS patient who once stood before a sellout crowd at Yankee Stadium to declare himself “the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”
Lou Gehrig is one of my heroes. After what I witnessed two weeks ago, so is Jay Fishman.
Jason Jakubowski of West Hartford is vice president of external relations at Hospital for Special Care in New Britain.
