Sometimes he bumps into patients. Sometimes he bumps into walls. Montefiore is an overwhelming place, even for those who can see. Cabs and buses loaded with patients stream up Gun Hill Road, disgorging a swirling human mass that can make it seem as if all the broken bones and sick hearts of the Bronx have landed at the hospital doors. Inside, skillfully negotiating his way through the chaos, is the doctor many have come to see, the blind piano-playing doctor who introduces patients to Mozart and Chopin even as he prods joints and listens to hearts and diagnoses disease.
Some patients swear the blind doctor sees their pain better than anyone.
Because of his blindness, I think he really hears what you have to say. Diaz is wearing a spotted hospital gown and sitting on a bed. In a few moments, Dr. Wainapel, who studied acupuncture in China, will stick 14 needles into her hands, feet and neck. Wainapel knew from childhood that he would eventually go blind. He has choroideremia, a rare inherited disorder that causes progressive degeneration of the retina and of cells in the back of the eye.