Rx FOR REDEMPTION

Doctor Who Served Time for His Wife's Drug Death Seeks His Own Healing in
AgeOld Practice: House Calls

Dr. Stephen Levine was once a neurosurgeon, with staff privileges at
CedarsSinai Medical Center and an office in Beverly Hills. Now he works
out of his car, his practice consisting almost entirely of house calls on
nursing home patients and shutins in the San Fernando and San Gabriel
valleys.

It's a far cry from his former, highincome practice, but Levine, 54, is
content to still be in medicine at all, seeking redemption through his
profession.

Exactly 11 years ago, Levine was in jail on a conviction of involuntary
manslaughter, pleaded down from an original charge of murder.

His wife, Myrna, had died in their Tarzana home of an overdose of Demerol,
a powerful painkiller to which she was addicted.

An investigation showed that Levine had written more than 200
prescriptionsmany of which were made out to a fictitious personto
provide her with the drug.

In the years after the widely publicized court proceedingsduring which
the judge who sentenced Levine described him as "a tragic figure"and his
six months in jail, the doctor has worked quietly to rebuild his
professional life.

Last year he began a new venture based on an old ideahouse calls.

He never remarried and is raising his daughters as a single parent. And he
never considered leaving medicine, despite constant reminders of his past.

"It's always there," Levine said just before a house call this week. "Every
time you apply to a hospital, change an address, reregister for something."

But it is his profession that has sustained him. "If anything, medicine was
the pathway for redemption and resurrection, even though I don't feel very
high off the ground in terms of resurrection," said the softspoken doctor.
"It's a strong discipline, and it is a refuge. "It's a path of healing."

The murder charge was brought in September 1985 after several months of
investigation. There was evidence at the time that Levine, in addition to
writing the prescriptions, had tried to cover up the true cause of death.

Even so, the prosecutor agreed to allow Levine to plead guilty to
involuntary manslaughter.

"It was tragic. He was a victim of his marriage," said the prosecutor,
Deputy Dist. Atty. Robert Dawson, in a recent interview.

Levine gave his addicted wife the drugs, Dawson continued, "because he
loved the woman. He didn't want to see her in pain, and he couldn't get her
off it."

The doctor's sentence was served under a program that allowed him out of
jail to work during the day. After his release, the Medical Board of
California suspended his license for six months, but according to board
officials, no actions have been taken against him since then and his
license is now fully valid.

Levine said that even with his legal troubles behind him, he didn't want to
return to his former practice. He checked into the possibility of
neurosurgery positions in different cities, but only halfheartedly. "I
don't think I was ready for it," he said.

In 1989, he began a general practice in the Riverside County city of
Beaumont and then in 1995 moved his family to a town of about 4,000 in
Illinois where he coheaded a rural clinic. But it wasn't to his liking.

He moved back to the San Fernando Valley in 1996, settling in North
Hollywood, but not to return to neurosurgery. "I missed the surgical
aspects of it, but I had been away from it for too long," he said. "I would
have had to go through retraining."

He spread the word to other doctors that he was willing to make house calls
and began serving nursing and convalescent homes from his car.

"It seemed like it would be an expanding market," he said. "It seemed like
the time to bring it back."

Most physicians stopped doing house callsa regular feature of a medical
practice as recently as the 1950son a regular basis for two reasons, he
said. First, because of technology's increasing role, doctors wanted to see
patients in places where equipment was available.

"But with telemedicine, we will be able to do many of those tests right in
the home, and even bring in a consultant by video," Levine said.

The second reason was economic. Although Medicare and other agencies pay
for house calls to shutins, the fee is only slightly more than for an
office visit. And obviously, because of the travel time involved, a doctor
going to homes can't see as many patients in a day.

Levine and a marketer with whom he is working have been unable to interest
any other physicians in joining their venture full time. The handful of
homebound patients Levine currently sees are referrals from other doctors.

Still, he is determined to show it can be done.

"I keep everything here," he said recently, opening the trunk of his car on
an Arcadia street where he was about to make a house call. Inside were a
portable EKG machine and neatly arranged Rubbermaid bins holding medical
supplies, equipment and paperwork. A small cooler held
temperaturesensitive vaccines.

With traditional black bag in hand, Levine walked up the driveway to the
home of Sue Owen, 79. When he reached the screen door, his demeanor
suddenly changed.

Where his conversation had been reserved in talking about the past, he was
now the friendly, confident doctor in charge.

"Hello, how are you?" he called out with a wide smile as the door opened.
Inside was Owen, who has been in a wheelchair since a 1963 auto accident.
She was clearly glad to see him.

Levine had first visited her several months ago because of a nerve problem
in her hip that was causing pain. He prescribed physical therapy and
advised her to change her position in the chair more often.

Owen, a former biologist, said she was surprised to find out there was a
doctor who would still make house calls. "I remembered it from when I was
young," she said. "This is certainly a very valuable service."

Levine examined her and then sat down and chatted for several minutes.
"This kind of medicine has more of a social aspect to it than what I was
used to," he said later. "You talk with someone, looking for signs of how
they are doing, how you might help." The tragedy in his life may have
better prepared him for this gentler brand of medicine, he said quietly.

"I think it has made me a better physician. I'm a good listener." If there
is a lesson he can impart it is about survival.

"I think that everyone should have a small, quiet voice inside that says,
'There but for the grace of God go I,' because terrible things can befall
you that can change your entire life and the life of your family.

"You just have to go on."

Copyright Los Angeles Times