Albany ‘Renaissance Man’ Dr. Jose Tongol is equal parts healer and artist

ALBANY – It’s perhaps apt that the people who know Dr. Jose Tongol best – his daughter, his best friend, his colleagues – refer to the Albany oncologist as a “Renaissance Man.”

If anyone fits the bill, it’s Tongol.

Beloved by the thousands of cancer patients he’s treated with compassion and kindness over the years, Tongol is almost as well-known for his musical and other artistic pursuits as he is his medical skills.

He’s a writer – of books, poems, songs – he’s an athlete, a runner of marathons and a triathlon competitor. He paints. He draws. He lends his skills to nonprofits close to his heart. And he’s a romantic, as dedicated today to his wife – and muse – of 37 years, Elena, as he was the day he picked her out of the three roommates he shared a flat with while completing his oncology residency in New York City.

Brought to Albany by the man he calls his hero, Dr. Phillip Roberts, Tongol is pumping the brakes a bit on a career that has earned him national renown and endeared him to the patients he offers a bit of hope – and humanity – at a time that many feel hopeless.

“I was meant to be an oncologist; God placed me in this position to help people,” Tongol says. 

Ironically, Jose Tongol was not on track to enter the medical field as he considered his future in his native Philippines. He was, in fact, only a hop and a skip away from studying engineering, a career that would provide him, he figured, ample time to work on the music he loved. But his sister pointed out there were no doctors in their village – and that doctors made a lot of money – so he did the math and changed careers in mid-stream, so to speak.

Tongol studied medicine in the Philippines, then, at his parents’ urging, came to America to continue his studies.

“My parents were already here, and they encouraged me to come to America for the opportunities here,” Tongol says. “It was clear that I had a chance at a better future in this country.”

So Tongol came to San Francisco in 1985, completing an internship and medical research on the West Coast before shifting across the country to New York to complete his residency. He was planning to take a position at Baylor University in Texas, where he had family, but out of the blue he got a call from a doctor in a place he’d never heard of: Albany, Georgia.

“Elena and I were married by then, and Dr. Phillip Roberts called and said he was looking for someone to do stem cell transplants,” Tongol said. “I didn’t know there was an Albany, Georgia, but Elena and I decided to take a vacation and visit.”

The Tongols admit that there was an initial overdose of culture shock when they made their way to the southwest corner of Georgia, but there was something about the place that made them stay.

“We found a house that Elena loved, and I was given a nice contract,” the oncologist said. “There were five or six folks here who were very welcoming, so we decided we’d give it a try.”

Elena Tongol, nee Thanopoulous, a “100% Greek; put me in Africa and I’d still be Greek,” who was born in Montreal and grew up in New York, said the slower pace of southwest Georgia fit hers and Jose’s lifestyle. So she agreed with the decision to come south with a plan to “just take things a day at a time.”

“I was raised very simply, and I take family very seriously,” Elena said. “I’m a woman; I cook, clean, raise my family, take care of my husband and our girls. What’s important to me are my husband, my babies, my cats, my home … and nothing else.”

Inspired by his bride, Tongol wrote the first of what would be hundreds of songs for her: “Loving You Comes So Easy.” Since then he’s written more than 900 poems, an almost equal number of songs, a pair of books, and has mixed in art and competitive running in the time he’s not seeing patients.

“Elena inspires me,” he says. “I started writing songs for her, and that’s opened me up to find inspiration elsewhere … from my patients, from life circumstances. I don’t know, it’s like something hits me. And when it does, I can write a song in 5 or 10 minutes.”

That hasn’t kept Tongol from providing compassionate care for the people he treats.

“I try to give them a little happiness,” the oncologist says. “I’ll sing a song for them, spend a few extra moments. I can’t explain the feeling of singing to a patient who is dying, giving them any bit of joy that I can.

“I see some in our field who would never put in any extra time for their patients. It’s almost like they punch the clock, work only a certain number of hours. I often ask myself, ‘(That doctor) couldn’t take an extra five minutes to hold a patient’s hand and give them a little encouragement when they’re going through such a frightening event?’”

The Tongols say they have “normal” friends, eschewing the lavish parties thrown by many of their contemporaries. One of Jose’s best friends, Jimmy Lindsey, says there’s no artifice in Tongol’s claim that he enjoys simpler things.

“We started out as running buddies – and by that, I mean competitive running – and have stayed close over the years,” Lindsey said. “He’s just the true Renaissance man; he’s an expert at so many things. I believe it was a karaoke event Jose did at my wife’s surprise birthday party that got him really interested in singing in public. We rented out a downtown coffee shop, and he found himself really in his element.

“When I first met Jose, I had this concept of how doctors are supposed to ‘act.’ Then this rather hefty guy who I think was one of his former patients came up and said hi. The first thing Jose said was, ‘Why have you gotten so fat?’ That’s just him, honest to a fault.”

As good friends do, Lindsey brings up a memorable bike ride he shared with Tongol.

“We’re riding down the road, and I’m in front,” Lindsey said. “There’s a big alligator in the road, but being a south Georgia boy, I knew the gator was dead. I stopped, and Jose was behind me. He was still clipped into his bike, and it fell over … dumping him on top of the gator. He’s trying to get the clips off while yelling, ‘The crocodile’s got me! The crocodile’s got me.’ I laugh about that every time I think of it.”

Tongol’s a youthful 67 now, and he admits that he’s begun the process of weaning his patients – and himself – off his constant care. Not that he’s planning on walking away from the things he does so passionately.

“I’m not done,” he says. “Yes, I can see the day that Elena and I get a Mercedes Sprinter and just drive where we want to go, listening to music, just enjoying life.”

And, Elena notes, she’s been willed a property in Greece that may allow her and her family to one day seek out the kind of life she grew up around.

“But,” Jose says, “there’s the oncology that’s so important to my life and my patients, and the wellness program that I’ve developed over the last five or six years. I think a person’s legacy is important, and I’d like for mine to be that I inspired others to make a difference.”