I went home that night and announced to my wife that I was going to be a brain surgeon. She looked a little surprised, given that I had been so undecided about what sort of doctor I should be, but she seemed to think the idea made sense. Neither of us could have known then that my obsession with neurosurgery and the long working hours and the self-importance it produced in me would lead to the end of our marriage twenty-five years later.
