A difficult patient helps a doctor see the light. Literally.

In November of my intern year, I had trouble finding the sun. It was dark when I woke up for work, and it was dark when I headed back home. I’d picked up the service on the cancer ward from an intern named Bob, and he left me six handwritten pages on the subject of Jim Franklin.

This was the deal: Jim Franklin, thirty-seven years old, was in the cancer ward …

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