12/19/2016 Harry Goldsmith, DPM
The Passing of Jeffrey A. Stone, DPM
Jeff Stone passed away several weeks ago. For
those of us who knew Jeff, it came as quite a
shock. We always assumed he would show up at
the next seminar, sitting in the exhibit hall,
shoe and sock off, trying to find a neuroma in
his foot using an ultrasound probe. What
happened in his life to reduce him to shoeless
Jeff Stone? I often wondered about that. I also
wondered where the neuroma was. Why didn’t Jeff
take care of it? And how much would I have to
pay him to inject it in the exhibit hall? A
dollar? Maybe.
Jeff had what could only be called “an active
sense of humor.” You never left his presence
without a joke to two, maybe a ribbing, always
a smile. I have three Jeff Stone stories.
Story 1: The first time I met Jeff was during a
coding lecture at the old California College of
Podiatric Medicine. It was my first visit to
the school, and I wanted to make a good
impression, so I brought my props: sunglasses,
black socks, and handcuffs – wait, wrong story.
I was waiting my turn, woke up to listen to
Jeff who explained biomechanics (the rage) and
the purity of custom orthotic making. It went
something like this (paraphrased): “I am in
awe of those in our profession who can evaluate
patients’ feet to a degree I can only dream of.
Literally through the magic of biomechanics
they can resolve aches, pains, gait issues, and
probably shrink bunions, flatten hammertoes
just by examining, evaluating, watching,
analyzing, and then creating the perfect set of
custom foot orthotics. I’m sure you’ve seen
them at work in their offices.
After a two-hour evaluation, they have the
patient lie on an examination table with their
feet overhanging the edge while they check out
the neutral position of the feet, think how
they will build in just a little pronation, and
then they begin with the wetting plaster (extra
fast drying, please) splints ritual, gently
layering them correctly on the foot. They then
reposition the foot in a neutral position with
just a touch of pronation.
Before you know it (22 minutes later), they are
done with the right. The impression cast is
carefully removed. Repeat (and rinse) with the
left. Twenty minutes pass. The doctor holds up
the right impression cast to eye level, moves
it all around looking for any kind of flaw.
Nope. Looks perfect. Picks up the left
impression cast and goes through the same
inspection, and just when he thinks he is
satisfied, he spots “something”. Tosses the
impression cast in the trash. And re-casts the
patient. This goes on two more times (one hour,
ten minutes has gone by) until he is finally
pleased. He tells the patient he will be called
when the orthotics arrive.
Two weeks later the patient is back in the
office. The foot orthotics are dispensed with a
flourish. The patient places them in his shoes
and walks up and down the hall three or four
times before the doctor sits in front of him
and asks how they feel. The patient looks at
the doctor and says the right orthotic feels
amazingly good…but the left orthotic, I don’t
know, feels “high” in the arch area. The doctor
frowns and takes the left orthotic to the
backroom. Looks carefully at the orthotic
sitting there on the work table. Then pulls out
his Master Appliance Heat Gun, Flameless
(maximum temps up to 1000°F) and
biomechanically melts the sucker to fit.
Story 2: Jeff was a master of practice
management. Always looking for the next neat
thing to incorporate into his practice. One day
at a meeting, he asked me to come over to see
what he was using in his practice. He hands me
a business card. On one side of the card, he
had noted in large letters (paraphrased): “For
my diabetic patients. If you ever think that
there is something wrong with either of your
feet, please don’t hesitate, get a hold of me.
I have all my contact information on the other
side of the card. Day or night, any time. It is
better to make sure there is no problem than to
delay have a problem worsen. Neither of us
wants that.” And, true to his word, sort of, on
the other side he had the office number, cell
number, and home number…of his associate. By
the way, the concept was great. Patients
literally would ask for cards to give to
friends and relatives.
Story 3: One night after we finished lecturing
at the same meeting, Jeff, Barbara (his wife),
my wife, and I went out to dinner. I was
relatively new in practice, and really didn’t
have much money. In fact, I was wearing clothes
from my residency years that were still decent.
As we were relaxing and chatting over drinks,
Barbara looks over and says, “Wow, you guys are
wearing the same shirts.” I look down and over
to Jeff (his shirt had his initials on the
cuffs); he looks me up and down, and in a nasal
drawl out tone that was pure Jeff, says, “I…
don’t…think… so.”
Although we didn’t see as much of each other
over the years, I will miss Jeff. He was one of
the original Codingline expert panelists
(practice management, of course). He always had
a smile and a kind word. You felt good just
seeing him sitting there, shoe off, ultrasound
probe probing, knowing one day he’ll figure out
there was never a neuroma there. Still brings a
smile to me. I am so lucky to have known him.
Harry Goldsmith, DPM, Cerritos, CA
