1998 Volume 121 No 1–4 - Phi Delta Theta Scroll Archive

CASE
Dr. Michael Benitez
dug deep to turn
popular myth on Its
head: Poe didn't die a
drunk in the gutter.
by Amy Pelsinsky
ognized. Benitez disagrees." Most people
have in their mind the Hollywood 'Old
Yeller' version: foaming at the mouth, a
raving lunatic tied to the stake so no one
gets near them," he says. The reality is
that most people don't recall being exposed
to a rabid animal, and death
comes fast—an average of four days after
symptoms begin, he continues. "Even
cases in the 1990s are often not recognized
untn post mortem," he says.
Some historians say Poe was fond of
pets and street animals, providing ample
opportunity for exposure. And, of
course, there was no rabies vaccine in the
1880s.
The symptoms Poe experienced in his
final days are consistent with rabies,
Benitez explains: difficulty swallowing
water, an illness that lasts four days on
average and progresses from an incoherent,
delirious state to lucidity and back
to delirium with wild swings in body
functions, like the heartbeat.
"I don't know for sure," Benitez says,
insisting that his findings are in no way
the final word on the subject. "There are
a lot of problems with the history. Any
conclusion is only as good as the factual
basis."
However, his study does rule out the
most popular myth about Poe's death.
"His dying of alcohol or opiate use or
withdrawal is not correct," Benitez said.
"There is no question he had problems,
but they didn't cause his ultimate
demise." Now somewhat infamous for his
report that was published in the Sept.
1996 Maryland Medical Journal—"It increased
the kook factor," he says—
Benitez still receives letters from
historians and scientists alike; not all of
them in agreement. He sometimes teams
up with David Keltz, a one-man Poe
show, to present the clinical side of the
story at medical conferences and school
assemblies. Stops have included the Na-
tional Association of
Medical Examiners'
meeting in Baltimore
last fall and the Medical
Humanities Hour, a
monthly, televised discussion
about medicine
in the humanities at
Poe's alma mater, the
University of Virginia.
Oddly enough,
Benitez spent three
years at the University
of Virginia School of
Medicine after studying
at the University of
Maryland. "Unlike Poe, I
wasn't thrown out," he
couches.
He returned to Maryland to study cardiology,
like his father. At first, he was
torn between affairs of the heart and infectious
diseases—finding exotic tropical
disease most interesting. "It would be a
great field if I lived in New Guinea," he
said. "They don't have the potential to
affect friends and family like heart disease,
though."
Benitez now lectures in the medical
school and leads interns, residents and
fellows in their first rounds on the wards.
He also heads the graphics lab, where
EKGs and stress tests are done, and the
Coronary Care Unit at the Veterans
Affairs Medical Center next door.
His office is wedged between a "lipid
guru," he says, who does research about
cholesterol, and a doctor studying preventive
cardiology. Benitez is studying
the effects of simple sugars and amino
acids on the ability of people with heart
conditions to exercise.
"I love teaching," Benitez says. A tie
bearing stethoscopes and heart monitor
blips hangs behind his office door. "It's a
lotofftin."
He also clearly enjoys delving into the
Ot HUBINO, COUHIESY OF THf HHL MAGAZINE
past. He is currently investigating
Alexander the Great who, after downing
an unreasonable amount of wine, died in
323 B.C. Curiously, his body didn't decompose
during that hot Mesopotamian
July. However, Benitez's diagnosis of
Alexander's death likely will not eclipse
his notoriety as the man who shed some
light on the Poe case.
The true tale of Poe's demise will remain
a mystery—DNA tests on his bones
can't be done because no one is sure the
body in the tomb is actually Poe—much
to the delight of the master of the macabre,
who once called scientists and their
quest to destroy mystery "vukures."
Benitez may have helped save Poe's
reputation upon his demise, but his
death remains a decided loss to the literary
world. "His death, and his use of
alcohol and opiates, overshadows much
of his real genius," Benitez said. "I don't
have any question he was disturbed, but
he clearly was a literary genius."
Amy Pelsinski is managing editor for The
Hill, the magazine of Western Maryland
College where this article first appeared.
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