PHYSICIAN SPOTLIGHT

Dr. Carol Armon does few things the conventional way. So it’s no surprise that she practiced gynecology in Israel as part of her career.

DR. CAROL ARMON built a busy practice in Miami after completing her OB-GYN residency at Jackson Memorial in Miami, where she was one of just two women out of 14 OB-GYN residents.

Dr. Armon, part of Health First Physicians, spent 2000 to 2002 practicing in Rananna, near Tel Aviv. The trip was a return voyage of sorts. She’d worked at Hadassah Medical Center in Jerusalem, at right,  as a college student, doing lab research in women’s health.

“Happy Medicine”

Dr. Armon expected to pursue a career in medical research. She was attending Syracuse University at the time, and then headed to New York University for medical school. Her first clinical rotation as a med student changed her mind.

As part of her medical school training, she saw a baby being born. “This is cool! It’s happy medicine,” she remembered thinking.

It was the 1970s, and there was pressure to become a pediatrician or family doctor. “Women didn’t go into gynecology,” she said. Nevertheless, she entered her residency at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami, one of just two women out of 14 OB-GYN residents.

“We were pioneers,” she said of herself and her comrade at arms. The men were patronizing, but Armon was never without a response. “I’ve been harassed by a lot better,” she’d respond.

Dr. Armon spent 2000 to 2002 practicing in Rananna, near Tel Aviv, Israel.

She’d been well-prepared to pursue her career from childhood. Her father was a cardiologist, and Armon would go on rounds with him as a young girl.

“He’s probably the reason I become a doctor,” she said. She remembers him as an old-fashioned doctor, always wearing a suit.

“He loved his job,” Armon said. “It came across in his parenting style, when, for example, he’d help his children with science projects for school.

“We had probably the most detailed clay models of hearts that existed, with descending coronary arteries and everything,” she said.

An uncle was a doctor, as well. “It was like an AMA meeting at my house when we had dinner,” she said. Her mother, a radio DJ, was also an active volunteer at the local temple.

Outside the Box

DR. CAROL ARMON standing by a display case that belonged to her father, also a doctor, which holds the antique medical equipment he collected. On top is her own collection of doctor figurines.

After she finished her training, it was time to think outside of the box again. None of the doctor groups in Miami wanted a female doctor, so she started her own practice. She soon found plenty of patients who wanted the extra attention and information she offered.

“Women became more strident about being patted on their head and told everything would be fine. They wanted options,” she said.

One patient, she remembered, was interested in becoming pregnant by donated sperm. Thinking that would be easy to arrange in Miami in the mid-1980s, she began looking for a sperm bank. She couldn’t find one, so true to Armon form, she opened one.

The business was the first commercial sperm bank in Florida, and earned her play in the local press and television. It also, in a roundabout way, connected her to her husband, Avi.

He wasn’t a donor at the bank, but his roommate was. So when Armon called to talk to the roommate, Avi answered. He was visiting from Israel, and he answered the phone in Hebrew. She speaks the language, and they hit it off. Four days later, they were engaged. And as proof that sometimes chemistry can’t be denied, this year marks their 25th wedding anniversary.

Their move to Israel was spurred largely by his desire to be near his family, but first there were some detours. The couple had a daughter, Shylie, and decided that Miami wasn’t conducive to raising children. The other female resident from her Jackson Memorial days was practicing in Alabama, where the market was open to more doctors.

“We moved lock, stock and sperm bank to Alabama,” Armon said. She focused on medicine and her husband handled the business side of the practice. More commercial sperm banks eventually opened, so they let their contracts run out and stopped accepting donations.

DR. CAROL ARMON at the Mosque of Omar in Jerusalem.

After a move to Crystal River on Florida’s Gulf Coast, they felt the pull to Israel. A move would let Shylie meet her Israeli family and help all of them deepen their connection to their faith and history. Armon’s mother in law was the first girl born in Rananna, a city created when American Jews bought land in Palestine to form a Jewish agricultural settlement.

“You want to be part of it,” Armon said of the desire of Jews to celebrate the nation of Israel and its struggles. “As a Jew living in America, you don’t feel like you suffered enough,” she said.

Rather than repeat some of her training to be credentialed in an Israeli hospital, she limited her practice to outpatient gynecology and declined to pursue hospital privileges. “I could be the dilettante gynecologist. I was 50; it was a good time to slow down,” said Armon, who also got involved in her daughter’s school.

In addition to the beautiful country, rich history and colorful people, one of her most vivid memories is of fear. The threat of terrorism was part of daily life. “Every time I drove next to a bus, I was afraid. Every time I heard a bang, I dove under the table,” she said of her time in Israel.

Socialist Model: “Lunch At 2:00, Home At 5:00”

She also has strong opinions about the Israeli health-care system – and what she fears health-care reform in the United States will look like.
In Israel, for example, the division of labor is more firm.

A woman might go to several doctors at a clinic for her prenatal care, but when she goes to the hospital, there will be a doctor she’s never met before, who will deliver the baby. Even at the clinic, she won’t see the same doctor every visit – the file might end up on someone else’s desk, and that doctor will see her.

Patients are assigned to medical teams. If they need a cardiologist, for example, they see the cardiologist in that team.

Medical equipment she saw in the hospital emergency room was antiquated. Long waits are common and patients have no recourse because of the socialist model. “Everyone goes to lunch at 2:00 and goes home at 5:00,” she said.

Such a system won’t fly with Americans. “I don’t think people will be happy. We are very inured to having it our way,” Armon said.
The system is less than ideal for doctors, as well.

DR. ARMON WITH HER “A” TEAM: Linda West, certified medical assistant, far left; Dr. Armon, center; and Kelly Wessendorf, office assistant, near left. Dr. Armon – a member of the Health First Physicians network – has privileges at Palm Bay Hospital, and her office is in the Physicians Office Building next to Palm Bay Hospital.

“You’re going to be dictated to constantly. Fill out this form, do A, B, C. He can’t have a CT because he had one last year,” she said. Such rules gut the quality of care. “It’s a procedural checklist. You’re taking away the art form.”

Patients need doctors who are free to make their own calls. “You don’t want them to be easily robotisized. You want a doctor who can think,” she said.
The end result here will likely be what happens there: Everyone gets a basic level of coverage, and if you want more, you pay under the table, “Israeli style,” she said.

Today, Armon limits her work to gynecology, has privileges at Palm Bay Hospital and practices in the Physicians Office Building adjacent to Palm Bay Hospital.

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