Penn doctor's disabilities a springboard to helping others

Margaret Stineman spent many of her formative years in the slow classes that were then the domain of children who were, as she delicately puts it, "not achieving."

Born with a severely deformed spine and shoulders, she endured 15 operations as a child on her eyes, internal organs, and misshapen bones. She spent much of her adolescence in a body cast, making her the object of ridicule. Problems with the muscles that control her eyes severely limited her vision. People around her did not think she was capable of much, and she agreed.

How that child - functionally illiterate when she left high school - became an artist and then a doctor and then a respected researcher and then a member of the prestigious Institute of Medicine is a remarkable story of serendipity, determination, motherly devotion, and well-timed mentoring.

Then there's the emotional alchemy. A set of circumstances that would have made many people angry, bitter, or at least deeply insecure seems instead to have forged a woman who is, at 58, confident, profoundly thoughtful, joyful, and serene.

Joel Streim, a longtime friend and research collaborator at the University of Pennsylvania, called her "one of the special people of the world." Just as Stineman focuses on her own strengths rather than weaknesses, he said, she sees other people's abilities and "has a real talent . . . to make them more creative and innovative."

Now a professor of both physical medicine and rehabilitation and epidemiology whose work has focused on measuring and compensating for disability, Stineman does not like talking about her physical problems. But she recently gave a rare speech to colleagues at Penn about how she had made it in academia, and now hopes her story will help fellow health workers see the potential in their patients.

Stineman's journey to the upper levels of medical research began with art. Bored in school, unable to see well, and plagued by medical problems, she turned inward and expressed her private world by painting and sculpting. In early adaptations for her handicaps, she used templates and mirrors to compensate for a lack of depth perception. Some of her teachers noticed her talent, and it got her into Temple University's Tyler School of Art.