Running Toward Justice: A Doctor's Marathon Heroism After a Malpractice Ordeal

Emergencies can happen at any time, anywhere, and medical professionals may sometimes face situations in which they alone can help...

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The following is a translation of Dr. Theodore Strange's interview with Medscape editor and writer Sarah Tucker.

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I was running my 25th New York City Marathon. It was 2018, and I had almost decided not to run that year. I wasn't myself, though perhaps that is an exaggeration.

A month earlier, I had been the subject of a medical malpractice lawsuit. I was facing 10 million dollars in damages. My colleagues thought I had done nothing wrong, but the jury disagreed. And the local newspapers had portrayed me as a villain.

I was devastated. But my priest, friends and family told me, "You can't give up." So I decided to run for them.

That morning, I started the marathon on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge with some colleagues. I usually listen to music while running, but not that year. I was just in my own space, enjoying the crowd. Millions of people lined the streets...

I was running well. I finished the first half in one hour and 57 minutes. My family always meets me at mile 17, and I was nearly there. I had reached 59th Street and was about to turn onto First Avenue.

It's one of the loudest places on the course. There's a kind of tunnel, and between the spectators and the runners it's incredibly noisy. Somehow, though, I heard someone shout, "Help!"

I don't know how I heard it. If I'd been listening to music as usual, I definitely wouldn't have. I could swear there was an angel on my shoulder saying, "Turn around, you fool. Someone on your left needs help."

I turned and saw a woman waving her arms about 30 meters behind me, with a runner lying on the ground. I thought someone had fainted and pushed through the crowd to reach them. The woman was crying, "My friend bent down to tie her shoe and fell backward. I think she's having a seizure or something."

I tried to wake the woman on the ground and raised her legs. But I immediately realized there was more to it. I tried to feel a pulse and couldn't. I shouted for a defibrillator and began CPR (cardiopulmonary resuscitation) to try to revive her.

Volunteers and police officers started coming toward us. The officers looked at me as if to say, "What is this man doing?" I explained that I was a doctor, and one of them started helping with CPR. While we were doing that, someone brought a defibrillator.

Meanwhile, runners kept going, almost running over us. The officers tried to form a barrier.

The machine delivered a shock, but we got no response, so we continued CPR. My legs then cramped so badly that I couldn't keep going. The police officer took over, and I shouted, "I need an Ambu bag!" Someone brought one, and I started giving her oxygen.

A paramedic team arrived with a more advanced defibrillator. We shocked her again, then once more. This time it worked, but she deteriorated again immediately afterward. On the fourth attempt, her heart started beating again and she began breathing on her own.

We finally got her into an ambulance. I wanted to go with them, but her friend needed to get in, and there wasn't enough room.

Then they left, and I was just standing there.

A police officer took my arm. "Doctor, you were amazing. What can I do for you? Where should I take you?" he asked.

I said, "Take me? My wife is waiting for me at mile 17."

I started running again. When I reached my wife and children, they were very worried. We all wear trackers, and they could see I had stopped for more than 20 minutes.

I fell into my wife's arms and told her what had happened. I was crying. "I don't know what to do. I need to go to the hospital."

She said, "No, you need to finish the race."

So I did. The cramps were painful, but by then I felt numb. I thought about the woman the whole way. My finishing time was 5 hours and 20 minutes.

As soon as I finished, I approached every police officer I could see, but none knew anything. Then I thought of my cousin, who had previously headed New York City Emergency Medical Services (EMS). I called him straightaway. "Hi, it's Ted. I need a favor."

"What?" he said. "Have you gone crazy running that marathon?"

I told him what I needed. Five minutes later he called back and said, "Ted, what did you do? Everyone wants to know who and where you are! The woman deteriorated again at New York Cornell. But they got her heart going, and now they're taking her to the catheterization lab."

Whenever I run a marathon, we have a big party at home. My family, friends and neighbors celebrate while I collapse on the couch. That night, my daughter told everyone what had happened.

But I still wasn't myself. I was still thinking about the malpractice case.

Yes, I had just done something wonderful. But not long before, I had been called the world's worst doctor. The distraction of the marathon was gone, and I started thinking again, "What will I do with my life? Who will ever want to see me again? I'm an outcast."

Everyone told me, "Ted, what happened a month ago doesn't define you. The person you showed yourself to be today is who you are."

I told them to drop it, but my daughter and neighbor kept calling people anyway. The next day, the local newspaper called. It was the same reporter who had covered my court case. I said I didn't want to speak to him. In fact, I was quite rude.

But my wife said, "Ted, what are you doing? That man was trying to help you." So I called back and apologized.

"Dr. Strange, we knew that story wasn't right." he said. "We have to write this story."

After the article appeared, more media calls followed. Channel 7 News and CBS News did segments. The New York Knicks invited us to a game and gave me a watch. It was incredible, but I also felt very embarrassed.

People started calling me a hero. But I'm not a hero. I simply did my duty, what I was trained to do. Not doing it would have been shameful. I'm a good person and, I hope, a good doctor, yes, but certainly not a hero.

I also owe part of what happened to the New York City Police Department, the Fire Department (FDNY) and the volunteers. I couldn't have done it without their support. It was truly a team effort.

A few weeks later, the woman returned home to Minnesota. Although she will never run another marathon, she is still alive today. Apparently, she had a single heart lesion known as a "widowmaker." She was in excellent health and had completed an ultramarathon just months earlier, but had a genetic predisposition to this heart condition. Every December, she calls to thank me for being able to celebrate another Christmas.

There's more.

A year after all this, almost to the day, my lawyer called. "The court overturned the malpractice verdict." he said. "You did nothing wrong."

I'm a man of faith, and I believe all of this happened for a reason. Maybe God was sending me a message, and that's why I heard a cry for help on 59th Street during my 25th marathon, amid millions of people.

I ran the marathon the following year. When I reached that spot, I stopped and reflected. Nobody knew why I was standing there, but I did. I could take you to that place today.

I'll turn 65 next July, and I plan to keep running...

Dr. Theodore Strange (far left), chief physician at Staten Island University Hospital, is a practicing internist and geriatrician. In this family photo, his wife (second from left) and relatives pose with him in a nod to Marvel's superhero Doctor Strange, calling Theodore "the real Doctor Strange." 

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Image description: The article's image was generated by Microsoft Copilot using the following prompt: "A female runner lying on the ground during a marathon, in watercolor"