“It’s not about helping people,” he explains. “If that were the case, I’d just spend the day writing checks from my father’s penthouse office. I like the objectivity of medicine. It doesn’t matter what someone does in real life. When we’re cut open, and our flesh is peeled away, we’re all the same vulnerable mound of muscle and blood and nerves underneath. I like that. And I like knowing that, for a little while, someone’s life completely depends on how well I’m able to wield the cold steel in my hand.” I’m not sure if it’s his words or the darkness in his voice that accompanies them, but a
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So in other words: Power.
