At my graduation dinner, Dad slid my acceptance letter back across the table and said I would not be attending the seven-year BS/MD program I had earned a place in. – Welcome

two don’t need to make this dramatic.”

That was his first response.

Not surprise.

Not congratulations.

An instruction to keep everything under control.

I was eighteen and had graduated from high school that afternoon.

Three weeks earlier, I had accepted a place in a seven-year BS/MD program two states away. As long as I met the academic requirements, I would continue reading …