Remembering Dr. Sam Scolaro, a COVID-19 warrior
By LINDA CHION KENNEY
Sam E. Scolaro, a beloved “country doctor” with almost 50 years experience as a primary care physician, died Aug. 7 at age 75 of complications from COVID-19.
“It’s a huge loss to the community,” said retired attorney E. Lee Elam, who, for 40 years, called Scolaro both doctor and friend and teed off with him often on the golf course. “He was a great student of the game, and he was an extremely dedicated doctor, like no one I’ve ever seen.”
True to that assessment is the reaction Scolaro’s death announcement received on Facebook, with hundreds of comments concerning the bedside manner of a doctor who deftly diagnosed, never rushed a patient’s appointment and didn’t let the coronavirus pandemic stop him in his tracks, despite his advancing age.
“What a selfless act your father did by continuing to care for people who were sick, knowing he was at risk,” reads one Facebook comment. “That is the definition of a true hero.”
Working for decades out of his Valrico office on State Road 60, Scolaro, for the past four years, practiced with Riverview Family Medical, a Florida Medical Clinic, at 7229 South U.S. 301.
According to his family, Scolaro knew by age 20 that he wanted to be a doctor, having been invited by his first cousin, Dr. Angelo Pardo, to shadow the doctor’s work in Ybor City.
Born and bred in Tampa Bay, Scolaro was in medical school at the Kansas City College of Osteopathic Medicine when the eldest of two daughters, Stephanie Scolaro, 48, was born. “He graduated in 1971,” she said. “He wanted to be a country doctor, so we moved out to the bedroom community of Brandon, and he joined the practice of Brandon’s first physician, Victor Hunter.”
Scolaro said her father was “100 percent present” for his children, Stephanie and Jennifer Goldbach, and his “best friend” and wife of 53 years, Janie, despite the long hours he worked as a family doctor, even making house calls when necessary.
“We would visit my dad at the office every day when he was working a lot, and my mom would try to get him to come home for dinner at a certain time,” Stephanie Scolaro said. “He’d come home for an hour, so he could eat with my sister and I, and then he would go back to work. There was no hospital in the area at that time, and he’d say, ‘Where are people going to go after work when they’re sick if they don’t have a hospital nearby?’ So he would keep his office open late.”
Scolaro said her father was very humble and unassuming, and that if there was an accident on the road and he was nearby, he would pull the car over and immediately step into his doctor’s role. “He did that all the time,” Scolaro said. “If we were at a restaurant and people weren’t feeling well, they’d ask [my dad] for assistance. He didn’t think twice about it.”
As for the coronavirus that would eventually claim his life, Scolaro said her father was disappointed in the medical community at large, for not stepping up to take charge of their local communities and help educate a frightened populace.
“He’d say it’s the fear that’s causing more problems than anything and fear lowers your immune system and it’s not necessary to get that way,” Scolaro said. “This is not about politics; this is about health, and we have to be there for each other.”
As for face coverings, “My father didn’t understand people getting crazy over masks and screaming in each other’s faces over whether to wear them or not,” Scolaro said. “He’d say, ‘I want you to wear your mask because it’s that little bit of extra just in case. The best thing you can do: stay away from crowds of people and wash your hands very well.’ And he meant surgical handwashing, from the elbows down, both palms, in between your fingers and under your fingernails. And keep your hands away from your nose, mouth and eyes.”
But nothing is foolproof, as Sam Scolaro learned, having lost his life after a five-week battle with COVID-19, having been infected despite extra precautions at work that required testing and screening before a patient could step inside the office.
“He probably got it from someone who was asymptomatic and had no idea they were a carrier,” Scolaro said. “He was very conscientious about it. All he thought about was his patients. When he was in the hospital, he told his nurses they had to get him well because he had to get back to work.”
As for when Scolaro planned to retire, his long-time patient and friend, Betty Jo Tompkins, offered some insight. “We’ve both had long careers, and he asked me one time when I planned to retire,” she said. “I asked him the same thing. He said he’s been asked that before, and he answered, ‘Do you read the newspaper? Do you read the obituaries? When you see my name in there, then you’ll know I’ve retired.’ He was a wonderful doctor, with a heart for his community, and he will be deeply missed.”
Scolaro is survived by his wife, Janie; his daughter, Stephanie Scolaro, and her husband, Larry Nardelli; his daughter, Jennifer Goldbach, her husband, Scott, and their son, Jackson; his brother, Don Scolaro; his nephew, Donny Scolaro Jr., his wife, Michelle, and their three sons: Jacob, Jonah and Luke; his niece, Noelle Eubanks, her husband, Rob, and their children: Robbie, Raelyn and Kyleigh; his cousin MaryAnn Favata, her husband, Frank, and their children: Paul and Stephen; and many other extended family members and loving friends, including his beloved patients.
In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations be made to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital, as Dr. Scolaro believed, “No child should ever have to suffer from illness.”