An excerpt from Cured: A Doctor's Journey from Panic to Peace. Dead bodies surrounded me. They lay on their backs, supine in medical terminology. I imagined some staring at the white plastic sheets that covered them completely, others glaring at their closed eyelids. Their smell, a mixture of formaldehyde and ...

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After almost fifteen years as a research physician, I grew tired of the relentless cycle of applying for grants, failing to obtain funding, and reapplying with variable success. Conducting clinical trials was rewarding, but the responsibility seemed endless. I began to feel burnt out, scorched. It was time for a change. I needed a hobby. Around this time, I read Frank McCourt’s memoir, Angela’s Ashes.  The author described it as a story ...

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In high school and college, I waitressed in a Dunkin’ Donuts shop that sat between Boston Common and the Combat Zone’s porn shops, strip clubs, and bars. The wages paid for school, clothes, rent, and food. At the time, I didn't realize this job would provide useful skills for my later medical career, an early pre-med training of sorts. Look the part. I donned the bubblegum pink polyester uniform that clearly identified ...

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