While his resume and credentials are very impressive, Stephen Thompson is best remembered for his passionate nature.  Steve went all-out in everything he did.  First and foremost, he gave his heart to the love of his life, Sue, having spent the better part of 50 years building their pretty exciting life together.  He and Sue shared a love of world travel, not just visiting, but immersing themselves in the cultures of places, from South Africa to Southeast Asia; from China to Europe—East and West; and the full span of the Americas—South, Central and North; and more.  Home or during his travels, Steve enjoyed hiking and cycling, education (and more education), compassionate patient care, theatre, music and more with Susan.  Even with all that, Steve still had the capacity to share more broadly.  Together with Sue—she, the chef, and he the sous-chef, pastry chef, oenophile and dedicated vegetable gardener—he shared his love of good food and wine with all who were fortunate to have a seat at their table.  Strong principles, strong family bonds, strong friendships, strong sense of adventure, abundant compassion, great integrity and a little dose of healthy skepticism kept Steve engaged, interested and interesting.

A dedicated baker, Steve educated himself extensively as he worked to create the perfect baguette.  Steve’s breadmaking really is a metaphor for his life as a whole: seek out and then nurture the starter, choose a variety of the best ingredients, massage them all together, and then try to make it better next time (even though it was already top-notch).   And when it doesn’t work out, call it what it is and start over again to do better. 

Born in Cleveland, Steve grew up mostly in Indiana, where he developed his passion for basketball.  He attended Indiana University in Bloomington, then went to New York, where, while working as an inhalation therapist, he met Susan Mateyka, a beautiful RN who was definitely his match.  Sue waited-out the consequences of Steve’s strong principles when he responded to his draft notice by showing up and saying no— that he would not go to Vietnam.  A bit of a blip, he got through it, later going to Harvard Medical School, from which he earned his M.D. in 1977.   

After medical school, the couple relocated to Denver for Steve’s residency in Pediatrics at University of Colorado.  While there, his wife Sue earned her M.D., also at University of Colorado.  They ultimately shared a primary care practice in Denver: Steve doing Pediatrics and Sue doing Internal Medicine.  Never afraid to pivot, Steve decided to do another residency, this time in Anesthesia.  He liked it so much, he talked Sue into doing the same.  After that residency, Steve went to work for South Denver Anesthesiology, where Sue joined him a year later.  The two practiced Anesthesia with that group for several years before tiring of the cold Colorado winters. In 1999, Steve and Sue moved to Tucson, bringing that passion and talent to Southern Arizona Anesthesia, where he worked until retiring in 2013.

Retirement.  The definition of the word involves “ceasing to work.”  That didn’t happen.  He not only baked and cultivated vegetables but he, with his wife, Sue, returned to his primary care roots after retirement, working tirelessly with Casa Alitas, a program that provides compassionate care to immigrants in Tucson. 

Steve was preceded in death by his parents, Robert (Tommy) and JoAnn Thompson, and his sister Kathrine (Katie).  He is survived by his wife Susan Thompson, M.D., his sisters Elizabeth (Libby) Thompson and Martha (Sis) Drane, his brother- and sister-in-law Don and Mary-Ellen Mateyka, his nieces Mia, Nell and Andrea, his nephew Matt, and a huge number of devoted friends he’s made—and kept—throughout his life. 

Steve and Sue have supported many important non-profits over the years, and would prefer that those who want to share their love make a memorial donation, in Stephen Thompson’s name, to one of these, in lieu of sending flowers:

Arizona Theatre Company

Humane Society of Southern Arizona

Planned Parenthood