The Origin
I Didn't Take
the Straight Road.
That Was the Point.
I started medical school at 31 — already married, already a father, already someone who had worked inside a nuclear containment building, nearly been decapitated by a forklift, and learned to sell insurance door-to-door when the rent money ran out.
Before medicine: an engineering degree, Palo Verde Nuclear Generating Station (foreman of hazardous waste cleanup, 780 millirem absorbed to the left thigh), Honeywell engineering technician. My wife finally said — on a drive through northern Arizona — "No more excuses. We're making a plan." That was the turning point.
I graduated 18th out of 160 in medical school — top 12%. Scored 2nd in the nation on my osteopathic orthopedic board examination. Was the first married-with-children resident my program accepted. My second daughter was born during finals week. I took makeup exams that were harder than the originals. I passed.
My adopted father — a Purdue electrical engineer and the smartest man I've ever known — held me to a higher standard than anyone else, precisely because he believed in me more than anyone else. His most quoted saying: "I made a mistake once. I thought I was wrong."That standard lives in every surgical decision I make.