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Jeff Mullican

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CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
January 13, 1988
I am not a doctor so I have had no occasion to read the Hippocratic Oath. But I strongly suspect that those who have read it, or who have made it the focus of their careers, would throw up at Restak's obtuse and egregious remarks. Of course, doctors are people, too, and as such, have some measure of compassion for the sick and dying, especially those dying from the ruthless and treacherous AIDS. The Times has given AIDS a human face, i.e., the poignant story of Jeff Mullican's courageous fight for life (Part I, Dec. 30)
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CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
January 13, 1988
I am not a doctor so I have had no occasion to read the Hippocratic Oath. But I strongly suspect that those who have read it, or who have made it the focus of their careers, would throw up at Restak's obtuse and egregious remarks. Of course, doctors are people, too, and as such, have some measure of compassion for the sick and dying, especially those dying from the ruthless and treacherous AIDS. The Times has given AIDS a human face, i.e., the poignant story of Jeff Mullican's courageous fight for life (Part I, Dec. 30)
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CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
January 9, 1988
It was with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes that I read the headline "With Merciful Speed--Battle With AIDS Ends for Mullican" (Part I, Dec. 29). I knew immediately that this would be the last in the series of articles chronicling Jeffrey Mullican's battle with AIDS. At least for Mullican, death was relatively swift and not the characteristically long process of both physical and mental destruction many people with AIDS suffer. I applaud The Times for bringing the human element of this horrible disease to the front page and I am grateful to the author, Marlene Cimons, for her sensitivity and style.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
January 9, 1988
It was with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes that I read the headline "With Merciful Speed--Battle With AIDS Ends for Mullican" (Part I, Dec. 29). I knew immediately that this would be the last in the series of articles chronicling Jeffrey Mullican's battle with AIDS. At least for Mullican, death was relatively swift and not the characteristically long process of both physical and mental destruction many people with AIDS suffer. I applaud The Times for bringing the human element of this horrible disease to the front page and I am grateful to the author, Marlene Cimons, for her sensitivity and style.
NEWS
October 24, 1987 | MARLENE CIMONS, Times Staff Writer
Looking back, Jeff Mullican now believes it began during the first tentative stirring of a New England spring. Six months ago, at a time when the earth around him was beginning its annual process of renewal, and his own health, all things considered, was remarkably good, Mullican began to feel that he had turned a dreadful corner.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
October 27, 1987
Jeff Mullican wonders whether he should give up. He questions life because he faces death. Jeff Mullican has AIDS. Acquired immune deficiency syndrome kills. And Mullican, 33, who lives in New England, has already survived longer than most people with AIDS. But he is starting to feel weaker. He tires when he measures the water for instant oatmeal. He has lost 35 pounds, and he lacks the stamina to shift gears on his car. A trip to see friends exhausts him.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
December 30, 1987
Jeff Mullican has died of AIDS. He was 33 years old. Time and again, obituaries in American newspapers tell of deaths from the scourge known as acquired immune deficiency syndrome that withers away resistance to disease. Mullican helped show that those who die from AIDS are real people with real pain, real families and often real courage. As they love life, so should they be loved and cared for--not feared, not shunned.
NEWS
August 3, 1986 | MARLENE CIMONS, Times Staff Writer
At first, the high-pitched alarm cutting through the blackness at 2 a.m. would jolt him out of deep sleep. Now, Jeff Mullican wakes up automatically, seconds before the clock goes off. A glass of water and a bottle of white capsules are waiting on a mantel shelf above the bed. He swallows one and tries to go back to sleep. Four hours later, at 6 a.m., a second alarm goes off and he repeats the brief ritual. Oddly, Mullican does not know what, if anything, the capsules contain.
NEWS
May 18, 1987 | MARLENE CIMONS, Times Staff Writer
"If I have seen further," Sir Isaac Newton, the great 17th-Century physicist, once said, "it is by standing upon the shoulders of giants." When the history of the scourge known as AIDS is finally written, perhaps in the 21st Century, Dr. Robert T. Schooley does not expect his name to be numbered among the giants on whose shoulders the conquerors of the dread disease stood. At best, he says, his research may find a place among the footnotes.
NEWS
August 13, 1987 | MARLENE CIMONS, Times Staff Writer
When Jeff Mullican's struggle with AIDS began 16 months ago, he wrote a painful letter to his father. Relations between father and son had never been easy or close and, at that point, the elder Mullican, a seemingly remote man who has difficulty showing his emotions, was the only member of the family who did not know his son was homosexual. "I said I was sorry I'd never told him, but I was afraid of his rejection," Mullican remembered recently.
NEWS
October 24, 1987 | MARLENE CIMONS, Times Staff Writer
Looking back, Jeff Mullican now believes it began during the first tentative stirring of a New England spring. Six months ago, at a time when the earth around him was beginning its annual process of renewal, and his own health, all things considered, was remarkably good, Mullican began to feel that he had turned a dreadful corner.
NEWS
January 5, 1987 | MARLENE CIMONS, Times Staff Writer
It had been eight months since the last episode, but the symptoms were frighteningly familiar. AIDS patient Jeffrey Mullican knew, with a permeating dread and foreboding, what was happening. First came the persistent fever and sore throat, too painful for him to talk or swallow. Then the shortness of breath, accompanied by fatigue so overpowering that he had to hold onto the walls while taking a shower.
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