Oppose Senate Bill 1125Solana Beach, CA
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Senator Dianne Feinstein
Re: Opposition to S.B. 1125, The Asbestos Trust Fund Dear Senator Feinstein, One of the most valuable lessons I learned from my father, Sherwin Zola Rosen, was to fight for what I believed was just. My beloved father died of mesothelioma on October 27, 2001, at the age of 63. Until his untimely death, my father embodied the American dream. He was the first born son of Russian Jewish immigrants who came to this country to flee the pogroms and seek a better life. My father's parents settled in Los Angeles in the early 1940s and worked hard to provide a decent living for their three children. My father attended the University of Southern California on a partial academic scholarship. After completing a two-year pre-dentistry course at USC, he was admitted to UC San Francisco's School of Dentistry, also on partial scholarship. While my father attended UCSF's dental school from 1958-1962, he was exposed to asbestos in its dental laboratory. The school required its students to cast their own gold fillings, inlays, and crowns. Asbestos was used as a cutting agent, to control the temperature level of the heated gold. Thus, my father inhaled heated, particulated asbestos. UCSF did not take safety precautions when it required its students to work with asbestos. My father and his fellow dental students were not even provided with masks. UCSF stopped exposing its students to asbestos in 1963, the year after my father graduated - too late for him. Immediately after his graduation from UCSF, my father served as a captain in the United States Air Force stationed at Tachikawa Air Force Base in Japan from 1962-1964. After completing his service, my father returned to Los Angeles and practiced dentistry for others until he acquired his own practice in Palos Verdes Estates in 1966. My father also volunteered his time to teach at USC and UCLA dental schools for 29 years. At the time of my father's death, he was still actively practicing dentistry, serving hundreds of patients, some of whom had been seeing him for 35 years. He still made the long drive to Westwood once a week to volunteer his time to educate a new generation of dentists at UCLA Dental School. Most importantly to me personally, he was a wonderful father to me, my brother and sister, and an incredible, hands-on grandfather to my three daughters. I was at my father's side when he was diagnosed with mesothelioma in July of 2001, almost exactly two years ago. "Bad luck," he said, trying to make light of his fate. Words can't describe the shocking pain of this diagnosis, which we came to understand was a death sentence. My father had always done everything right health-wise. He never smoked, or abused alcohol or drugs. He exercised regularly. His only vice was a two-can-a-day diet soft drink habit. My father made a valiant effort to prolong his life, in order to spend more time with his family and his patients. He flew to Beth-Israel/Deaconess Medical Center in Boston in late July to be operated on by surgeons who had the greatest success rate with mesothelioma. Unfortunately, after my father went through the agony of having his left lung and part of his abdomen removed, followed by an excruciating round of chemotherapy, the mesothelioma returned in early October, this time surrounding his heart. We all knew death was imminent. My younger brother, Fredrick Rosen, who is a medical resident in Texas, and I flew to Boston to bring him home to Palos Verdes to spend time with his family before he died. My younger sister, Dina Rosen, flew in from London, where she'd been working toward her medical degree, my husband drove our daughters up from Solana Beach. My three girls, aged 7, 6 and 2 years old at the time, were horrified to see their dear Papa Sandy so diminished, wearing a diaper, and reliant on an oxygen mask to breathe. My mother was faced with the loss of her husband of 41 years. We all said our good-byes. My heart broke as I watched him watching his young granddaughters from his deathbed. He knew he'd never have the joy of seeing them grow up. Senator Feinstein, how can you, as a grandmother, legislate a price tag on this? My husband, Rich Leib, a long-time Democratic party fund-raiser, and I felt disappointed and betrayed to see that you voted in favor of the Asbestos Fund which would prevent us from having our day in court, and having our case judged on its individual merits and unique circumstances. My mother, Debora Semenov Rosen, my siblings and I were not enthusiastic about suing UCSF, as my mother, my brother, and I all graduated from UC Berkeley. I also graduated from UCLA's School of Law. However, the merits of this case demanded that UCSF be called upon to account for its practices. When I was admitted to the California Bar in 1988, I swore to uphold justice. The ironically named Fairness in Asbestos Injury Reduction (FAIR) Act is patently unfair and unjust to me, my family, and people like us. This legislation, sponsored by big businesses such as Halliburton, seeks to minimize their tort exposure so they can cut their losses and litigation expenses. What about my family's loss, Senator Feinstein, which you propose to quantify so neatly? After my father died, my then 2 ½ year old daughter Lilyanne constantly asked, "Where did Papa Sandy go?" Just last week, Lilyanne, now 4 years old, asked me, "Why did Papa Sandy have to die?" We're all still seeking answers and your ill-considered legislation increases our pain and sense of loss, by denying us our own, unique cause of action. Please reconsider your position. Sincerely, Sharon Rosen Leib Enc./ Copy of family photo of my father Sherwin Z. Rosen, D.D.S, holding my youngest daughter, Lilyanne S. Leib, after her birth on May 31, 1999, two years prior to his death.
*** POSTED ON JULY 23, 2003 *** |