The instrument that determined my practice

We all have our reasons as to why we eventually settle in our specialties. Some reasons are short and straightforward; others are multiple and meandering. Some reasons are honest and honourable; others I daresay are false and forced. I have only one real (and ridiculous) reason—the reflection of my awestruck 5 year old face in a head mirror. Twenty five years ago, I sat high on a red swivel chair, swinging my legs nervously and staring at a selection of shiny but scary instruments sprawled across a long wooden desk. I gripped my mother's hand while she spoke to a big voice from a big face from a big man in a big white coat. He suddenly stopped and turned his big eyes on me. I dug my nails into my mother's …