“One weekend when I was on call in the ICU as a second-year resident, I was on rounds with Abe Sanders, the attending. Dr. Sanders was a portly, avuncular man with a mischievous grin. Despite the miseries of the ICU, he always maintained a relentlessly upbeat manner. It was a brilliantly sunny day, perfect weather for sailing. Midway through long, protracted rounds, Sanders called us over to a window. He pointed down at a sailboat on the river. A man was standing on the deck, looking up at the hospital. He looked as if he were about Sanders’s age, though fit and tan. He was holding a drink, and a party with attractive people was being held on board. “See that guy?” Sanders said. “Do you know what he’s thinking?” We were standing in a patient’s room. The alarms were going off. No one ventured a guess. Sanders said: “He’s thinking, 'I should have been a doctor!'" Of course, I now have a much more nuanced view of medicine than the man on the boat. Having been in medicine for the better part of my professional life, I have seen that there are all types: knights, knaves, and pawns. In fact, most doctors—myself included—are an amalgam of all three. Neither we nor the profession in which we practice is perfect.”