Three years later, my flight glided smoothly over the Atlantic.I gazed at the fading light outside the window and instinctively touched my right arm.The shattered bone had healed fairly well, but it still ached whenever the weather turned cold and rainy.After the attack three years ago, I accepted my mentor’s invitation to join his research program in Germany.He had tried hard to convince me to stay long before that.But back then, I couldn’t bear to leave my patients, the man I loved, or my best friend, so I turned him down.I had come home from Germany with a suitcase full of gifts, eager to see them again.Instead, the two most important people in my life betrayed me together.During my three years in Germany, I turned myself into a machine that never made mistakes.By day, I worked with my mentor at the hospital.In the evenings, I went to physical therapy.At two or three in the morning, I was often still awake in my apartment, buried in medical journals.I simply
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