They Thought I Had a “Little Medical Job”—Until My Name on the Hospital Wing Came Up at Dinner

by whether Jonathan cared about them. He didn’t care about academic honors or medical breakthroughs or children’s lives saved. He cared about sales figures and golf handicaps and the number of zeros in his quarterly bonus. And our parents, bless them, cared about whatever he cared about with religious devotion.

It hadn’t always been so extreme. Childhood continue reading …