Roy Watson, health sector journalist, pays tribute to South Africa’s legendary professor who died this month, aged 94, and who had a huge influence on his career.
Watson writes:
I was saddened to hear about the passing of my “kindred spirit”, Professor Harry Seftel, who played an incredibly influential role in my development as a health sector journalist in a variety of capacities, starting from when he was on the editorial board of the doctor newspaper, SA Medical Post, of which I was appointed editor in 1977.
My task was a daunting one, to say the least, not having had any experience in medical or healthcare communication, but the good Prof (never called him “Harry” out of pure respect) was always there to assist and guide me in his own inimitable fashion – something the 702 Radio and Cape Talk listening public grew to love and enjoy during his tenure as medical slot anchor many years later.
Larger than life in many respects, the good Prof matriculated at Jeppe High School for Boys (when I told him my son had started at Jeppe in the early 1990s, I vividly recall him saying “Jeppe, ah yes, Jeppe! Good choice…!”), read his MBBCh at Wits Medical School, and had just been inaugurated as Professor of African Diseases at the same institution when we first met.
One of his remarkable qualities was his simplistically charming but forthright manner when talking the good talk. This, I remember being told, first manifested when presenting his inaugural lecture: “He had them rolling in the aisles..!” my informant mused.
Needless to say, this was to continue as his willingness and enthusiasm to inform based on his astute clinical knowledge attracted more and more attention, not only in academic and general medical circles, but also publicly at business and social events – and, not least, among the media…
From the SA Medical Post I moved to the country’s first specialised medical public relations agency, Medical Communications (MedCom) where, aside from plying my trade on press releases and single-sponsor medical magazines, I was responsible for organising and chairing press conferences.
Stories coming out of those events, usually lunches, were legend. A classic example, for instance, was when the Prof was asked by a reporter if he could comment on iatrogenesis – generally described as an illness or injury as a result of medical care – and if it were a problem in South Africa.
At the time the new Johannesburg General Hospital (now Charlotte Maxeke) had just been completed on Parktown Ridge, much to the chagrin of many local residents who labelled it an “eyesore” in one of the city’s more scenic spots. The good Prof was one of them, who answered: “Iatrogenesis!? Iatrogenesis!? You ask about iatrogenesis? Well, I can tell you that 10% of those patients in that edifice on the hill will die from iatrogenesis!”
Despite the tap on the ankle he got from me sitting next to him, if the good Prof had something to say, he would say it, regardless…
The late 70s and early 80s saw a proliferation of cardiovascular disease agents, mainly for hypertension and cholesterol-related disorders.
Cholesterol was one of the good Prof’s most active interests, prompting him to start the Lipid Clinic in Johannesburg and jump on any opportunity to spread the word, particularly among the media.
After a while it became a standing joke among some media representatives, who warned each other not to sit in the front row when the good Prof was expounding the ills of atheroma, or degeneration of the walls of the arteries, as he would generally translate with a loud, moist expletive, “Vrot vaarte, jy weet? Vrot vaarte!”
Yes, Prof, you were one of a kind and it was a serious honour and privilege for me to have benefited from your goodness and caring manner, particularly in those early years, and your hearty greetings whenever we met thereafter.
At our last meeting at a Medical Advisory Group event some years ago now, you – who always fancied yourself as a journalist (with good reason!) – put your arm around me and announced in great Seftelian style, “Kindred spirit,” to those in our immediate vicinity.
Sincere condolences to the Seftel family and close colleagues.
“Death,” you always used to say,” is a fact of life.” RIP Kindred Spirit! You will continue to be sorely missed.
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