Sharon Hospital: A rural hospital’s routine

Dr. Ron Santos, right, director of Sharon Hospital’s Emergency Department, reviews a patient chart with medical staff.
Photo by Debra A. Aleksinas

Editor’s note: Sharon Hospital’s plans to eliminate Labor and Delivery and substitute its Intensive Care Unit with a Progressive Care Unit have captured headlines for months. This story takes an overall look at the hospital’s services.
SHARON — A bloodcurdling wail from a young child in distress pierces the calm inside Sharon Hospital’s Emergency Department, drowning out the soft, rhythmic beeps of nearby monitors. Doctors and nurses are huddled around the lone patient on this weekday afternoon in one of the department’s 10 treatment rooms, which were filled to capacity the prior evening.
Dr. Ron Santos, who has served as director of the Emergency Department for 12 years, described the ED as a no-judgment zone, where all who enter are treated with equal doses of attention and care, whether they present in dire straits or for less-serious injuries or health issues.
“We’re here to help people when they think they are having an emergency,” said the physician. “We never want to minimize their concerns.”
The ED, which is staffed 24 hours per day, seven days a week, 365 days of the year and on average treats about 40 patients per day, is often the first point of contact between patients and the hospital.
But it is hardly the only department in the 78-bed, 250,000-square-foot, acute-care hospital providing services to the community. On average, about 250 people receive inpatient and outpatient services in a single weekday, according to hospital officials.
A walk through the departments
A recent late September tour, guided by President Christina McCulloch, offered insight into the daily operations of the
community hospital, from some of the traditional services available in the full-service community hospital, to new enhancements including a telehealth kiosk allowing virtual care for oncology, neurology and infectious diseases, enhanced stroke support and care, state of the art imaging and expanded senior behavioral health and women’s health services.
McCulloch walks and talks as she approaches the Labor and Delivery unit, where two of the department’s six beds are occupied. Except for the presence of a security guard outside the hallway leading to patient rooms, all is silent.
L & D, a year after plans to close were made public
Labor and Delivery, which sees less than one birth per day, has been a controversial topic since Sharon Hospital’s parent company, Nuvance Health, unveiled plans a year ago to shutter the maternity unit and transform Intensive Care into a Progressive Care Unit.
McCulloch said the “long-term goal is to have everything available for women’s health services outside of delivering babies, either here in Sharon, or to be able to connect people to services outside of our catchment area.”
Finances are the driver
Nuvance leadership maintains the cuts are financially necessary to remain open and stable in the long-term, and are needed to staunch the $41 million in red ink annually, a situation described as “unsustainable” in an independent analysis from the hospital consulting firm Stroudwater Associates.
Part of its transformative plan is boosting investments in key services tailored to the demographic it serves. Sharon Hospital’s service population is older than Connecticut and national averages.
Connecticut’s Office of Health Strategy (OHS) plans to hold a public hearing on Sharon Hospital’s application on Tuesday, Oct. 18, via Zoom.
“I am aware that Nuvance has increased its social media and written communication about Sharon Hospital, which had been non-existent for years,” noted Nancy Heaton, CEO of the Sharon-based Foundation for Community Health, which helped fund the Stroudwater report. “I know, too, that they have conducted many small community meetings in hopes of communicating directly with residents about their intentions.”
Heaton commended the hospital for its recruitment and retention of physicians, especially primary care physicians, to the area.
Telehealth initiative
Soft light streams though the window of a cozy room with a small, round table, two comfortable chairs facing a very big wall monitor. Located just inside the entrance to maternity, the area houses a new telehealth kiosk. The fully staffed set-up allows patients to make face-to-face virtual appointments with an oncologist, neurologist or infectious disease specialist.
McCulloch explained that the kiosk was installed in response to needs expressed by the community for access to specialty services.
The telehealth kiosk fills that gap, she said. “A person can make an appointment to see an oncologist, then have labs and testing done here, without having to leave Sharon.”
Transportation is a challenge in rural areas, made especially difficult in one with an aging demographic. Sharon Hospital’s patient service area straddles the remote Connecticut/New York border area comprising 41,573 residents.
Thirty-five percent of the hospital’s total service area population is from Connecticut and 65 percent is from New York.
Radiology, behavioral services
With a tap of a badge, the heavy double door swings open to the radiology/imaging department, where an average of 12 people visit daily. We are greeted by a smiling Ken DiVestea, the unit’s director. A patient is currently occupying the state-of-the art MRI machine, so that is off-limits to the tour, but DiVestea is excited to show off a high-tech 3-D imaging mammography unit.
The hospital recently invested in a new MRI machine, as well as a state-of-the art, 3-D mammography unit, the “gold standard” for detecting breast cancer, and DiVestea said he is awaiting delivery of a new bone density system in early 2023.
“We really are trying to offer everything we can to the community,” McCulloch said.
That includes expansion of the hospital’s senior behavioral services, she said.
“Historically we’ve had a 12-bed geriatric psychiatric unit, but now we have 17 beds,” she said, making the Sharon facility one of only three geriatric psych centers in the state, serving Massachusetts, New York and Connecticut.
Patients come from either extended care facilities, or Sharon Hospital’s ED, and stay overnight with most stays involving two weeks of intensive therapy and medication adjusting for individuals suffering from dementia, anxiety, depression, schizophrenia and a range of disorders affecting the elderly.
Wound center
Treating open wounds does not sound like the kind of job that fits everyone. But for the staff at the Outpatient Wound Center, helping patients change dressings and promote healing of wounds that are post-surgery or infected, or painful or difficult to heal, is all in a day’s work. “We love what we do!” said lead nurse Tracey Waite.
A daily average of 12 patients pass through the outpatient wound unit. This department comprises a team of doctors, nurses and therapists including Waite, Dr. Amy Tocco and Dora Proe at the unit’s front desk. They provide individualized treatment to help people, such as those with diabetes or vascular issues, return to their normal daily activities. The Wound Center’s three clinic rooms have seen an uptick in patients recently, attributed to Waite’s outreach efforts.
“I go around communicating with other providers, reminding them that we’re here,” said Waite.
Surgical services
Next, we arrive at the hospital’s Surgical Unit. Dr. Mustafa Ugurlu, a general surgeon who has headed the department for the past six years, has just concluded a meeting with Susan Strobino, the unit’s Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN). Strobino emerges from the office with an armload of surgical supplies, and Ugurlu takes a few minutes to reflect on a recent increase in elective surgeries.
“Good volume” is how Ugurlu described the pace of elective surgeries. The surgeon said patient feedback reveals they are willing to travel a little farther to receive a high level of care at a hospital that is not congested and where they don’t face excessive wait times to book appointments. About 35 people per day on average are inpatients at the hospital.
Rehab a busy place
A small, green bean bag is hurtling toward my feet as I enter the hospital’s Rehabilitation Department. Giggles erupt just around the corner, where a small boy is taking delight in tossing the bean-filled pouches down the hallway. Nearby, two patients are lying on benches awaiting the physical therapist’s healing touch, and another is performing stretching exercises under the guidance of staff. Tuesdays and Thursdays, according to staff, are especially “crazy busy,” when it’s not uncommon for 60 to 70 patients to be booked for services with physical, occupational and speech pathologists.
“We see patients who have orthopedic surgeries and injuries, neurological disorders like Parkinson’s disease and stroke, vestibular and balance disorders, swallowing and voice disorders, as well as children with developmental delays or orthopedic injuries,” according to Melissa Braislin, director of rehabilitation services and cardiac rehab.
The hospital’s rehab department also offers various support groups and activities to the public, including a Stroke Support Group, Total Joint Camp and an Arthritis Exercise Class. With the exception of the exercise class, those programs are free.
Braislin said the recent closing of Outpatient Physical Therapy at Geer Village Senior Community in North Canaan led to an influx of appointments. “We have seen an increase due to Geer PT closing,” said Braislin.
Millerton News
Liane McGhee, a woman defined by her strength of will, generosity, and unwavering devotion to her family, passed away leaving a legacy of love and cherished memories.
Born Liane Victoria Conklin on May 27, 1957, in Sharon, CT, she grew up on Fish Street in Millerton, a place that remained close to her heart throughout her life. A proud graduate of the Webutuck High School Class of 1975, Liane soon began the most significant chapter of her life when she married Bill McGhee on August 7, 1976. Together, they built a life centered on family and shared values.
Liane was a woman of many passions. She found peace in the outdoors, whether she was taking scenic country rides, fishing, or walking her dog. An avid reader and a talented painter, she possessed a creative spirit and a caring heart that extended to all animals. Above all, Liane was most at home when surrounded by her family.
Liane is survived by her devoted husband of nearly 50 years, Bill McGhee. Her legacy continues through her three children: Joshua (Tanya) McGhee, Justin McGhee, and Jaclyn (Joe) Perusse. She was the proud grandmother of Connor, Calia, and Kennedy McGhee, as well as Lillian and Tillman Perusse. She is also survived by her siblings, Larry Conklin and Linda Holst-Grubbe. Liane was predeceased by her parents Martin and Lillian Conklin, and her brother, Robert “Bob” Conklin.
In keeping with Liane’s generous nature, the family requests that, in lieu of flowers, memorial donations be made to Hudson Valley Hospice (by mail to 374 Violet Ave, Poughkeepsie, NY 12601 or online at https://www.hvhospice.org/donate) or to the Millerton Fire Company at PO Box 733, Millerton, NY 12546.
A celebration of life will be held on Friday, May 8, from 4:00 to 7:00 p.m. at Conklin Funeral Home, 37 Park Avenue, Millerton, NY.
Her family will remember her as the strong-willed and caring matriarch who always put them first. She will be deeply missed.
Natalia Zukerman
Ten New Yorker cartoonists gather around a table in a scene from “Women Laughing.”
There is something deceptively simple about a New Yorker cartoon. A few lines, a handful of words — usually fewer than a dozen — and suddenly an entire worldview has been distilled into a single panel.
There is also something delightfully subversive about watching a room full of women sit around a table drawing them. Not necessarily because it seems unusual now — thankfully — but because “Women Laughing,” screening May 9 at The Moviehouse in Millerton, reminds us that for much of The New Yorker’s history, such a gathering would have been nearly impossible to imagine.
The documentary, created by longtime New Yorker cartoonist Liza Donnelly and directed by filmmaker Kathleen Hughes, traces the uneven history of women cartoonists at the magazine, from their presence in its earliest issues to their near disappearance by the 1950s. But the film does something more interesting still: it lets us watch these artists at work.
“The idea was talking to these women about their process and where their ideas come from,” Donnelly said. “You get to witness these women drawing in the film, and I draw with them.”
“Women Laughing” includes intimate conversations with some of the most celebrated and groundbreaking cartoonists at The New Yorker, including Roz Chast, Emily Flake, Sarah Akinterinwa, Liana Finck, Amy Hwang and Bishakh Som. Donnelly also speaks with Emma Allen, the magazine’s first female cartoon editor. During a dynamic roundtable discussion with 10 cartoonists, viewers also meet artists Emily Sanders Hopkins, Maggie Larson, Arenza Pena-Popo and Victoria Roberts.
“I will confess that it was what I was most worried about,” Hughes said of the technical challenges presented by filming 10 artists at work. “You have 10 people. That’s 10 microphones, six or seven cameras. We didn’t even have a budget for it, but our crew donated all the gear so that we could get it done.”
Hughes was relieved that not only did it work, but it became one of the most memorable parts of the film.
“Frankly, when you put people together and have them talk on screen, it can get tiresome quickly,” Hughes said. “So I’m glad that nobody listened to me when I said I didn’t think we should do this.”
For Donnelly, whose book “Very Funny Ladies” was the impetus for the film, the documentary offered dimensions the printed page could not. For Hughes, whose previous films have examined weightier subjects like economic inequality and gun violence, entering the world of cartoonists brought its own revelations.
“I really did think that the cartoonists were sort of in charge of what was in the magazine,” Hughes said, laughing. “That was probably the biggest revelation.”
What surprised her most was not just the structure of the magazine’s famously competitive submission process — cartoonists submit batches each week and face frequent rejection — but the sheer persistence required to sustain the work.
“It was inspiring to see the dedication everybody had to the craft,” Hughes said. “And how creative everybody is, not just in making the cartoons themselves, but in supporting themselves through it.”
An audience reaction that has surprised both Donnelly and Hughes is the laughter. By the time the filmmakers finished editing, they had seen each cartoon so many times that the humor had become technical material — questions of pacing, framing and sequence. The first public screening changed that.
“All the laughter really kind of blew us away,” Hughes said. “You forget.”
The audience response underscores something else the film makes clear: just how much skill lies behind the apparent simplicity of a single-panel cartoon. Donnelly noted that the form is “a lot harder than you think.” Like the cartoons it celebrates, the documentary values economy and precision. At just 37 minutes, its compact running time reflects that ethos.
“A lot of people have said it’s a great length,” Hughes said. “It’s almost like a cartoon version of a documentary.”
Donnelly appreciates the response she hears most often after screenings.
“You leave them wanting more,” she said.
Like the best New Yorker cartoons, “Women Laughing” says a great deal with remarkable economy, leaving audiences laughing and looking more closely at what appears, at first glance, deceptively simple.
“Women Laughing” will screen at the Moviehouse (48 Main St., Millerton) on May 9 at 7 p.m. followed by a conversation with Liza Donnelly, Kathleen Hughes and cartoonist Amy Hwang. Moderated by Joe Donahue of WAMC. Tickets at themoviehouse.net

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Natalia Zukerman
In “Your Friends and Neighbors,” Lena Hall’s character is also a musician.
At a certain point you stop asking who people want you to be and start figuring out who you already are.
— Lena Hall
There is a moment in conversation with actress and musician Lena Hall when the question of identity lands with unusual force.
“Well,” she said, pausing to consider it, “who am I really?”
Born Celina Consuela Gabriella Carvajal into a San Francisco family steeped in performance — her father a choreographer, her mother a prima ballerina — Hall was, by her own account, “born to be onstage.”
“Like a show pony,” she joked.
She trained first as a ballet dancer, studying in France on scholarship before abandoning that path for musical theater after seeing her sister perform in “42nd Street.”
Even then, identity was something inherited before it was chosen.
The Tony Award-winning, Grammy-nominated performer has spent much of her career moving between worlds: Broadway and television, rock clubs and film sets, musical theater precision and raw, unvarnished songwriting. Her latest solo album, “Lullabies for the End of the World,” is an intimate, autobiographical work that explores co-dependency, heartbreak and self-reckoning.
But for Hall, whose career includes a Tony-winning turn in “Hedwig and the Angry Inch,” a starring role on Apple TV+’s “Your Friends and Neighbors,” and acclaimed performances in film and television, the search for artistic identity has been unfolding for decades.
The record’s central themes — identity, authenticity, reinvention — are the same ones Hall has been sorting through for much of her adult life.
“It wasn’t until later that I started asking those questions,” she said from New York City, which she splits her time between and West Cornwall, Connecticut. “What do I want to represent? Who do I want to be? I was trying to find the authentic self instead of just going with the flow.”
The search began, in part, with an unlikely catalyst: a tonsillectomy.
When Hall was 26, surgery altered her voice just as she had joined the rock band The Deafening. “They would just play really loud and never change the key,” she said, laughing.
At the same time, Hall found herself confronting larger questions about purpose and artistic direction.
“I was going through that moment of, what do I really want out of this industry?” she said. “If I’m going to keep doing this, I need to have a purpose.”
Until then, Hall said, she had largely been defined by external expectations.
“I was always who I was told to be,” she said.
The surgery became a kind of reset, both vocally and personally. It also coincided with another form of reinvention: the decision to change her professional name.
“My real name is a lot,” she said.
People stumbled over its pronunciation. It was harder to remember, harder to place. “Lena Hall” felt streamlined, memorable. “It also just sounds like a rock star,” she laughed.
Hall, who is one-quarter Filipino with Spanish and Swedish ancestry, later grappled with whether changing her name obscured an important part of who she is. At one point, she said, she was advised that reverting to her birth name might improve her casting prospects as representation standards shifted.
She declined.
“That didn’t feel authentic,” she said.
Instead, Hall came to see the name change as less a departure than a continuation.
After making the change, she discovered that Carvajal itself was a family alteration, adopted generations ago in the Philippines.
“I’m still honoring my family, even in the name change,” she said. “I’m continuing that tradition.”
Her Filipino heritage remains central to how she understands herself, even as some parts of that history remain difficult to trace.
“I’m very curious to keep searching,” Hall said. “That side of my family is where all the artistry came from.”
Hall’s refusal to flatten herself into a single story or cultural identity is mirrored in her journey as a multi-hyphenate artist. She is, depending on the moment, a Broadway belter, a screen actor, a rock frontwoman, a conceptual songwriter.
Her current side project, the all-female Radiohead tribute band Labiahead, gleefully complicates the picture further, reframing familiar songs through a new lens.
“When women perform something written and performed by men, it changes it completely,” she said. “Nothing even needs to be said. It just happens.”
The same could be said of Hall’s own work.
Across mediums, she is an artist interested less in performance as display than performance as revelation.
Onscreen, she said, that often means doing less.
“The camera is literally on your nose,” she said. “You just have to think, and it picks it up.”
Between Celina Carvajal and Lena Hall, between ballet and rock, Broadway and Cornwall, Hall is making peace with multiplicity.
“At a certain point,” she said, “you stop asking who people want you to be and start figuring out who you already are.”
Natalia Zukerman
“A Love Letter to Handsome John” screens at The Colonial Theatre on May 8.
Fans of the late singer-songwriter Todd Snider will have a rare opportunity to gather in celebration of his life and music when “A Love Letter to Handsome John,” a documentary by Otis Gibbs, screens for one night only at The Colonial Theatre in North Canaan on Friday, May 8.
Presented by Wilder House Berkshires and The Colonial Theatre, the 54-minute film began as a tribute to Snider’s friend and mentor, folk legend John Prine. Instead, following Snider’s death last November at age 59, it became something more intimate: a portrait of the alt-country pioneer during the final year of his life.
What began as a simple gesture of gratitude evolved into a poignant meditation on friendship, artistic influence and loss, offering viewers an unusually personal glimpse of Snider at home in his quietest moments.
For Brad Sanzenbacher of Wilder House Berkshires, bringing the film to the Northwest Corner has been deeply personal.
“I’ve been a huge fan of Todd Snider and John Prine for 20 years,” he said. “I lived in the Bay Area before I moved here, and I would see Todd live probably at least four times a year — sometimes back-to-back nights. I was that kind of super Dead Head-type fan that was on tour.”
Sanzenbacher said he had the chance to meet Snider several times and attended the musician’s Catskills retreats.
“He was just one of those people that I really connected with strongly,” he said. “Like a lot of people, when he passed away, I was really shocked and devastated.”
When he learned screenings of the film were beginning to pop up around the country, he wanted to bring that communal experience here.
“I know there are a lot of Todd Snider fans everywhere who want closure on his life and maybe a chance to feel like they’re in the room with him again,” he said. “I thought it would be a really cool experience to bring the film to the community.”
The screening is part of what Sanzenbacher calls the film’s organic, fan-driven momentum.
“I love the grassroots movement of the film,” he said. “They were going to do two screenings and that was going to be it, and now they’re showing it all over the country because fans have reached out to say, ‘How can I bring a screening to my town?’ I feel really lucky we’re able to show it.”
He hopes the evening captures some of the camaraderie that defined the Todd Snider fan experience.
“One of my favorite things about being a Todd Snider fan was when you’d go to two or three shows in a row, you’d turn into a little caravan and make friends with strangers and become this community,” he said. “That’s kind of something I’m hoping happens at the film.”
The screening begins at 7 p.m. Friday, May 8, at The Colonial Theatre, 27 Railroad St., North Canaan. Run time is 54 minutes, with time afterward for audience members to gather and connect.
Matthew Kreta
New Sharon Playhouse logo designed by Christina D’Angelo.
The Sharon Playhouse has unveiled a new brand identity for its 2026 season, reimagining its logo around the silhouette of the historic barn that has long defined the theater.
Sharon Playhouse leadership — Carl Andress, Megan Flanagan and Michael Baldwin — revealed the new logo and website ahead of the 2026 season. The change reflects leadership’s desire to embrace both the Playhouse’s history and future, capturing its nostalgia while reinventing its image.
After attending the closing performance of the Playhouse’s production of The Mousetrap last September, Christina D’Angelo told Playhouse leadership she was “completely changing her design direction” for the new logo after experiencing the work and atmosphere of the Sharon Playhouse firsthand. She incorporated the barn silhouette to capture the theater campus’s history and evoke the warmth and magic of the Playhouse.
“The barn gives a fixed image of how we all feel about the Playhouse,” said Megan Flanagan, managing director. “The new branding presents the story of the great history of Sharon Playhouse — who we were, who we are today, who we are becoming — and the barn is that unifying element.”
The design was one of several options presented and was selected unanimously by Playhouse leadership. D’Angelo also designed this season’s branding, creating a visual throughline for the 2026 season.
The Playhouse remains committed to its taglines and mission statements, “Create. Community. Together.” and “Your destination for the arts.” While those phrases are no longer reflected in the logo itself, Carl Andress, artistic director, said the organization is not moving away from them and that they will continue to appear in publications and on the updated website.
“The refreshed brand aims to shift the narrative in the community, reinforcing the Playhouse’s role not only as a theater but as a vibrant gathering place and artistic home,” Playhouse leadership said in a press release.
For more information, including a video about the updated logo and details on the upcoming 2026 season, visit sharonplayhouse.org

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