The year was 2002 and I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting on a torn chocolate-brown leather couch in the chief resident’s office at North Shore University Hospital after a long shift. There were four of us leaning on a low-lying coffee table with many scratches, stains and scars winding over it. We were playing “flick football,” a common pastime we used to relieve stress after a hard shift. Little did we know that this game in particular would lead to a conversation about the profession, and what it truly means to be a DO.

Dave Galinkin, DO, was our leader. The chief resident. El Jefe. Although often a jokester, he was the smartest and wisest of us all. He would go on to do an infectious disease fellowship at Memorial Sloan Kettering, then later become associate medical director of a hospital in eastern Long Island. He was very funny and very sharp. “Score!” Dave roared as he triumphantly sent the paper football soaring through Jonathan’s open hands, which were perched on the other side of the long table, his index fingers outstretched, serving as the goal posts.

Jonathan Weinstein, DO, was the best second-year resident in our class. He would go on to become assistant chief and later chief resident. He would complete a cardiology fellowship at North Shore (only the second DO in the illustrious program), and become the first DO interventional cardiology fellow at North Shore. Later he would advance to managing partner of one of the biggest cardiology practices on Long Island. Dr. Weinstein’s long brown hair fell down into his eyes as he smiled, proud of Dr. Galinkin’s success.

“It was an OK shot, but I can do better!” Stu Beldner, MD, one of the elite cardiology fellows and a good friend, exclaimed. He playfully bumped Dr. Galinkin out of the way and set up the paper football for his own shot. Dr. Beldner tilted his head sideways close to the table as he closed his left eye and squinted his right to line up the shot.

His “flick” shanked right, widely missing the target.

“Sorry Beldner, we all still love you, but DOs are just better at flick football!” I joked.

“I love you guys too,” Dr. Beldner said a bit sadly, knowing this might be our last game together, as Dr. Galinkin was graduating and would be leaving us to move to Manhattan the following week. “It’s so funny you mention that—before you guys, I don’t think I had ever met a DO. Other than prowess at flick football, what do you think makes DOs so special?”

Pride in the profession

“It’s our common history,” I commented, always pragmatic. “It’s that we all know what year A.T. Still threw the flag of osteopathy to the wind! What year was that, Galinkin?”

“1874!” He proclaimed without delay. It was closer to the tip of his tongue than the treatment of tularemia or the cause of Katayama fever.

“I think it’s the philosophy!” said Dr. Weinstein with a wry smile. “We treat patients as a whole.”

“I thought it was manipulation … isn’t that it?” asked Dr. Beldner, who was envisioning the many nights in the chief’s office when he had asked one of “the DOs” to aid his aching back. Pushing a heavy echocardiogram machine up to the ICU to rule out tamponade took its toll on the lumbar spine. Other than Purkinje fibers, Dr. Beldner knew that there was nothing he loved more than soft-tissue techniques.

“Nah,” said Dr. Galinkin, the wisest DO of us all. “It’s the secret handshake, no question … that’s it—the secret DO handshake!”

Dr. Weinstein and I looked at each other quizzically, then we looked back to Dr. Galinkin. I turned red with embarrassment as I meekly stated, “Dave, I don’t know what that is.”

“Of course you do!” Dr. Galinkin exclaimed, and we knew he was ready to impart his wisdom on the group as he often did in the wee hours of the morning. We crowded around as Dr. Galinkin started his lecture.

“Guys, there is something very special about being a DO,” our sage chief started. “I agree with everything that has been said. Yes Storch, it is the history, as we all started with the brilliance that flowed from Kirksville, Missouri. Yes Weinstein, it is the philosophy, body, mind and spirit, and the importance of treating the patient as a whole person. And yes Beldner, it is osteopathic manipulative treatment. But it’s also something much, much more!”

Dr. Galinkin continued his luminous dissertation, “As osteopathic physicians, we are a minority, and we are a little different. That gives us no choice but to be strong,” he explained. “We have to prove ourselves every day. It is a part of our profession, a part of our heritage and part of who we are that we have to work hard, we have to be smart, we have to be highly compassionate every day. When you’re a DO, you’re always bringing your A game.”

“It is from this experience, which starts in school, continues on the wards and finally is seen in practice, that we are forged! It gives us all a shared experience and a bond as osteopathic physicians. If I had to summarize it with one short phrase, I would call it our secret handshake.”

We all stared at Dr. Galinkin in amazement. Genius. Dr. Weinstein and I understood exactly what he meant. Wisdom from Dr. Galinkin, our chief, in its purest form. Of course—the secret DO handshake!

Dr. Beldner rolled his eyes and smiled.

“I don’t know if I understand all of this handshake business, but I agree, my DO friends, you are awesome,” he said.

Dr. Galinkin smiled and winked at Dr. Weinstein and I. We all laughed as Dr. Beldner again bent down, leaning his head on the table to line up his second flick football shot. Dr. Beldner sent the paper triangle flying straight through Dr. Weinstein’s outstretched fingers as Dr. Galinkin, Dr. Weinstein, Dr. Beldner and l screamed, “Goal!” in harmony, with collective pride.

DO connections abound

It’s been more than 20 years since that last “flick football” game and I think of it with nostalgia. I often cogitate on Dr. Galinkin’s speech. He was always so funny, but there was so much depth to his words. Today, I truly understand the symbolism of what he said. As DOs, we need to be confident and proud. We all need to stand up for ourselves and each other collectively, as no one else will.

This doesn’t mean that I don’t love Dr. Beldner or my other MD colleagues. I do. But if you see me on the wards, in the office or at a conference, and you have a DO on your badge, we are bonded. We are brethren. We all have the secret DO handshake! If you don’t know it or have forgotten it, stop me and I’ll help you relearn it.

Editor’s note: The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily represent the views of The DO or the AOA.

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