Cutting for Stone

by Abraham Verghese

WE COME UNBIDDEN into this life, and if we are lucky we find a purpose beyond starvation, misery, and early death which, lest we forget, is the common lot. I grew up and I found my purpose and it was to become a physician. My intent wasn’t to save the world as much as to heal myself. Few doctors will admit this, certainly not young ones, but subconsciously, in entering the profession, we must believe that ministering to others will heal our woundedness. And it can. But it can also deepen the wound.

Life, too, is like that. You live it forward, but understand it backward. It is only when you stop and look to the rear that you see the corpse caught under your wheel.

We are all fixing what is broken. It is the task of a lifetime. We’ll leave much unfinished for the next generation.

she realized that the tragedy of death had to do entirely with what was left unfulfilled.

Wasn’t that the definition of home? Not where you are from, but where you are wanted?

“God will judge us, Mr. Harris, by”—her voice broke as she thought of Sister Mary Joseph Praise—“by what we did to relieve the suffering of our fellow human beings. I don’t think God cares what doctrine we embrace.”

In order to start to get rid of your slippers, you have to admit they are yours, and if you do, then they will get rid of themselves.”

“I hope one day you see this as clearly as I did in Kerchele. The key to your happiness is to own your slippers, own who you are, own how you look, own your family, own the talents you have, and own the ones you don’t. If you keep saying your slippers aren’t yours, then you’ll die searching, you’ll die bitter, always feeling you were promised more. Not only our actions, but also our omissions, become our destiny.”

But a child’s ability for reprisal is infinite, and can last a lifetime.

But you reach a point where after trying and trying you say, Patience be damned. Let them suffer their distorted worldview. Your job is to preserve yourself, not to descend into their hole. It’s a relief when you arrive at this place, the point of absurdity, because then you are free, you know you owe them nothing.

No blade can puncture the human heart like the well-chosen words of a spiteful son.

‘CUTTING FOR STONE.’ ”

Greater love hath no man—

There is a point when grief exceeds the human capacity to emote, and as a result one is strangely composed—she had reached that point.

“Marion, I know you think I favored Shiva … And maybe I did. What can I say but that I’m sorry. A mother loves her children equally … but sometimes one child needs more help, more attention, to get by in the world. Shiva needed that.

The world turns on our every action, and our every omission, whether we know it or not.