My sense of worth, unavailable to me for who I am, has come from work. And in the practice of medicine I found the perfect venue to prove my usefulness and indispensability. For a long time it was impossible for me to turn down work—the drug of being wanted was far too powerful to refuse and, in any case, I needed the flame of constant preoccupation to ward off the anxiety or depression or ennui that always lurked at the edges of my psyche. Like any addict, I used my addictions to help regulate my moods, my internal experience. On weekends when the beeper fell silent I felt empty and
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