FOR MOST PEOPLE, neurosurgery is a mysterious, high-stakes profession—but that’s part of the reason I was drawn to it as a curious child and, eventually, as a medical intern and PhD student.
And while surgeons are trained to be detached and rational, some patients have left an indelible mark on my soul. Here are the stories of two who profoundly changed my understanding of both medicine and myself—and of what it means to be human.
Jeff
In the fall of 1986, I was an intern at St. Michael’s Hospital in Toronto, having just finished medical school and begun a one-year clinical rotation to complete my qualifications. My internship was designed to provide exposure to a variety of specialties. I had spent two months each in emergency, obstetrics, paediatrics, internal medicine and psychiatry. I was now trying the field of surgery.
As a naive 10-year-old, I had found neurosurgery appealing, but now, as an intern at age 25, I was learning its realities. I was on call for the first time, working all night and the next day. I began to question if it was right for me.
That doubt was allayed one night in the ER when a patient named Jeff arrived by ambulance. Jeff was a 19-year-old construction worker who had fallen 20 feet from scaffolding while installing windows in a new hotel. The paramedics had found him on his back, unconscious but breathing, and had transported him to hospital on a spine board with a neck collar.
This story is from the January 2024 edition of Reader's Digest India.
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This story is from the January 2024 edition of Reader's Digest India.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
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