Life-changing events

In the 1950s the group medical practice in which I became a junior partner had a monthly financial meeting. Our accountant presented the latest balance sheet, the earnings and expenses of each partner. At the meeting in about October 1958 my partners rejoiced as the accountant recited the numbers. I could not share their glee. I saw in my mind's eye the sad face of a woman whose only son I had helplessly watched as he died of overwhelming viral toxaemia during the Asian influenza pandemic that had brought us so much work in the previous months, made so much money for all of us. On the morning before our meeting, this grieving mother had insisted on paying me for my fruitless visits to her son. He had been my friend, an occasional playing partner at golf, which made our encounter emotionally stressful. That had been a moment of truth. I realized in an instant that I did not want to get rich on the proceeds of other people's misfortune, sickness or suffering. I loved my work as a family doctor, but could not share the delight my partners expressed that evening. In that moment of truth I realized that I would have to find another way to follow my profession...and, as it transpired in due course, to lead a small part of it briefly. So that monthly business meeting in the early summer of 1958 was a life-changing event. A second life-changing event followed 2 or 3 months later. As the influenza epidemic waned, I fell ill myself with a life-threatening virus pneumonia; and during my slow convalescence I had time to think about ways to make the best use of the life I had been spared to live. That was when I decided to leave the family practice I loved, and make a career in helping as best I could to find ways to keep people as healthy as possible for as long as possible.