Dr. Joel Weisman, one of the great pioneers and heroes of the early days of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, passed away last week. In his practice in Sherman Oaks, California in 1980 Joel was among the first to notice a disturbing pattern among his patients. Speaking with his friend Dr. Michael Gottlieb, they realized they both were experiencing the same pattern. The two co-authored a report to the CDC about this strange new illness among gay men and often that report is regarded as the official beginning of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in America. Thus began an epic struggle, especially in the gay men's community, for survival in the midst of a nation's indifference.

However, for me, Joel was my doctor and dear personal friend. The real heroism in Joel was not being among the first to identify the emerging epidemic, it was for holding so many of us together in a time of need, constantly being available for his patients and fighting like hell for the approval of new promising drug therapies. This is a man who day in and day out treated hundreds of young gay men dying from AIDS and never ceased to have a smile and a comforting word. Without giving us false hope, he allowed to hope. No matter what time of day or night, Joel was there for us. Armed with a wicked dry sense of humor, he taught us all about grace in the face of adversity.

Joel was a ordinary doctor - albeit a very good one - when suddenly he was thrust into the national limelight. In that rapid rise to fame, he never lost those personal touches that made us love him and he was never too busy for his patients.

When I first moved to Los Angeles in 1977, all my buddies said to go see Joel as a doctor. He was an openly gay man and totally aware of the issues facing the gay men's community. Joel was the first doctor in my life who offered me the opportunity to be open, talk about personal health issues and feel no shame. What a gift! We became friends as well as patient and doctor. As the AIDS epidemic unfolded we also became partners in the struggle to find a cure, end discrimination and take care of the massive number of our friends that were sick and dying.

In 1980, I will never forget Joel saying to Peter Scott and I over dinner that there was this new disease that seemed to affecting only gay men. There really was no way to grasp the enormity of what he was saying. Then about a month later a friend of mine went into the hospital on Friday and died on Tuesday. He was a stunning 26 year old, in perfect physical shape. Up until he went into the hospital, we had not the slightest clue of what was coming. He called a day or two before he entered Sherman Oaks and said he had a bad case of the flu. Then he was gone.

Suddenly we were thrust into the dark and horrible world of AIDS. As it unfolded in those early years, most doctors or nurses wouldn't treat us, undertakers wouldn't bury us, dentists refused us service, home healthcare workers shunned us and our health insurance refused to cover us. Joel, however, was never hampered in the treatment of his patients by the anger and hate outside. He found the doctors and nurses that would treat us and created one of the first wards in any hospital dedicated to the treatment of people with AIDS filled with loving, caring medical personal. Dr. Weisman worked side by side with Peter Scott, Matt Redman, Diane Abbitt and others to create AIDS Project Los Angeles to provide the services that others were denying people with AIDS. Where he found the time and strength I will never know. He never ceased to inspire me to do more in a kind and gentle way.

The Pacific Oaks Medical Practice became one of the largest in the world for the treatment of HIV/AIDS. Dozens of my friends made that their medical home before they died. The most dreaded phone call was when a friend would phone to say, "I am in Sherman Oaks". No other explanation was needed and we knew immediately their time on earth was limited. The agony is almost impossible to describe.

Once I was taking a break from visiting a friend in the Sherman Oaks AIDS Ward and ran into Dr. Weisman. He could see the weariness on my face. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Let's get a cup of coffee." We went down to the cafe in the hospital and he took my hand and said, "David you are going to have to pace yourself or none of us will through this horror." I got a new grip on myself and said to him, "Joel, history will write about you forever for what you have done for us." He looked down and then looked up at me and said, "I don't want to be known in history for this horror. I just want someday to get away from it and be known as an incredible friend."

Well, today, Dr. Joel Weisman gets both accolades. Not only will he will be remembered by history as a great man, but everyone of us whose life he touched will remember him as a good friend and a good man.