The surgical mask provides little anonymity as the piercing stares burn through my scrubs. The frenetic movements and frantic cadence in the emergency room provide the first glimpse a life hangs in the balance. I know specialists like myself often suffer from a God complex. I, however, am humbled by my blessings.

The New England Journal of Medicine has honored me as one of our nation’s most distinguished neurosurgeons. It is difficult to remember all the times I was told “I was born to my calling.” In fact… nothing is further from the truth.

For the longest time, my life followed the least resistant path of a seemingly pre-determined existence. A chance encounter changed my life. Most of the events happening after that meeting seem surreal. I was faced with choosing between family and friendship. Friendship endured but at a terrible cost.

It’s been years since I was forced to relive my past; one private and unspoken. However, recent publicity surrounding my medical career has shed light on aspects of my life, long put to rest. I never felt I was hiding my past. Yet, when faced with inquiries from an investigative reporter, the need to control took over. I wanted to be the one to tell my story.

Every so often my attorney earns the two hundred fifty dollars an hour he so routinely bills me. The temporary injunction he secured against publication wouldn’t hold up against First Amendment Rights, or “the public interest.” However, it provided time to tell my wife, friends and colleagues, before they read about it in the tabloids. This is not to say the article was not accurate, it simply left out the essence of the story.

My wife was a model of support. She displayed compassion and empathy, without judging. Her actions re-enforced why she captured a heart devoid of emotion so long ago. In fact, the book was her suggestion. I must admit being initially confused, but after discussing it with my lawyer and friends, I saw a book as the best alternative to a feeding frenzy of misinformation.

A temporary alliance was formed. I agreed to write this book in conjunction with the reporter. What was once a control issue became telling the story with accuracy. No names were changed, as there are no innocents to protect. Plus, if I changed the names, proper homage wouldn’t be paid to those most deserving.

So here I go… A story of strong family ties and stronger bonds of friendship. The clichés are endless about blood being thicker than water. We have no choice about the family we are born to. Friendships, by contrast, are of our own choosing. This is a story which examines inherent conflicts when forced to choose blood over true friendship. Needless to say, there is a heavy price in making such a choice.