My name is Vern Spray and I'm an alcoholic.

This thing goes off while I'm talking and you can't hear me, let me know or whatever needs to be done. You may not want to hear me, but if you do, just raise your hand. I don't know if it's going to feed back or not. I may have to figure out how to play with this thing for a while. Just don't touch it at all. I've done it already. Story of my life. I've been here 30 seconds and screwed it up.

You people really do know how to throw a party. You really do know how to throw a party. I'm not afraid of you. Obviously, it's not afraid of me either. It's interesting this sign behind me. Not as interesting as the speaker, but it says sobriety. S O B I E T Y. The attitude of this conference is wonderful. And what it really tells me is what this is is almost a composite of AA. We don't have to get it perfect for it to be just right.

I don't think it's any simpler than that. We don't have to get it perfect for it to be just right. Malaki called me and asked me to come speak. I'm really appreciative to the committee that selected me. This is a conference where the attitude and the love has been so strong that I'm just grateful to be here. I've been fortunate to travel around the country quite a bit and speak. I've been at conferences where many of the other speakers had great stories to tell, and between the time they were talking and the time they left, I wouldn't have given two cents to spend any more time with them. Fortunately, there aren't many of those, but there are some.

The speakers at this conference thus far have really rung my bell, both from up here and from the time I've spent with them personally. To listen to Scott and Kelly, and to watch—see, I'm gray-haired and 56 years old. I came in this program when I was 42. I was 41, actually. I have two children who are their age, who have been in AA. My daughter's been in AA for 11 years and she's 31. My son's been in AA for seven years, he's 25. And they basically are that age.

My daughter's story is much similar to Scott's story. And I'm so—I can tell you the joy that I feel at these young people with this kind of sobriety and the joy I felt listening to them talk. It's like watching a flower open. Especially Kelly last night—I was just struck with what is going on in her life. And I sat there saying, "Look at a gal, at a gal, as the flower opens and the awesomeness of spirituality as it's starting to surge through her body." And listening to Scott working through some of the problems he's working through today. This man's 30 years old. When I was 30 years old, I was trying to find the bathroom, you know? And at that time I had a college degree and a medical degree and I was still trying to find the bathroom.

When I found out I needed help to figure out what to do when I got there, you know, David—and in his talk, the simplicity of it. See, I used to consider that almost naive. And that was something I didn't really want to have. I wanted to swagger. And if you didn't swagger, then you didn't have it. A knowing look on my face that I wanted to have. So you'd think I really knew what the heck was happening when I didn't have any clue what was happening.

And to listen to that naivety and that beauty, that beauty and that simplicity. My son went through treatment at the treatment center that Melinda was talking about, and I know what this lady is. She is an absolute bundle of love. And that whole treatment program that he went through was just a bundle of love. You just saw the tip of the iceberg today because how much can you really show in that period of time? She showed a lot, but I really knew this lady to be exactly what she told you—just pure love.

Mary Kay I've not met, but her countenance tells me that we're in for a treat tomorrow and I'm really looking forward to it. I am grateful to be here and I thank those people who asked me to come. Malaki, what a treat this afternoon with the dooberries. You know, it's interesting as I unfold this talk. Neil Diamond was very instrumental in my drinking. Sweet Caroline was something I used to cry about when I was drinking, and now I cry about it sober. And they hadn't done it in I don't know how long, and they started doing it today. My wife looked at me and she said, "Welcome home, sweet Caroline." You know, and to see that family unity. What a treat. What a treat.

As I get older, my memory gets to failing sometimes. And I always tell this joke to start off my talk because I want you to recognize that if my memory fails, I've got an out. And when Malaki and I first met, I was speaking at a conference called Mountaintop Roundup. And I literally blanked out in the middle of that talk. Just went blank. I didn't go to pieces. I thought it was funny. I just blanked out. Couldn't remember. Father Hillary was sitting there and I looked at him. I said, "Father Hillary, have you ever heard my talk?" He says, "Yes, I have, my son." And he said I said, "Well, do you believe in the power of prayer?" And he said, "Yes, I do, my son."

Here's 500 people sitting out there while I'm carrying on this conversation with this bishop. I said, "Well, if you believe in the power of prayer and you've heard my talk, then you better start praying fast or you're going to have to finish this, or the whole night's over because I'm getting ready to sit down." I mean, I lost it. These two old priests—this one priest was 95 years old and his mind was still razor sharp. He could remember facts. He couldn't remember dates, but he couldn't remember names. So he figured out a way to do that. Inside his lapel, he wrote down every name that he would have to remember if he was going to do something.

So at this particular meeting, he was celebrating the retirement of one of his proteges who was 70 years old. So he stood in front of the crowd and he said, "I want to say I'm very grateful to be here celebrating the retirement of my dear friend, my most loyal friend, my protege for all these many years, Father Patrick O'Reilly, who has labored long and hard in this parish, my favorite parish, my most favorite parish, the parish of St. Michael. But most of all, I'm grateful for Father, who has labored long and hard in the vineyards of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ."

And it gets that way sometimes. If I go into Jesus Christ, you know I'm in trouble. So that's when everybody claps and starts laughing or it's all over.

I gave a talk in southern Indiana right across the river from Louisville. And I walked into this room and I knew most of the people that were there and they knew me, but I normally didn't go to this meeting. I was there to talk at a birthday, and I've been going there every year to talk at this fellow's birthday for about 10 years. As I walked in the back door, one of them said, "Hey Burns, you talking around?" I said, "Yeah." And he said, "Well, keep it honest and keep it short." I said, "Well, I'm not sure I can do both." He said, "Then keep it short."

Humility comes easy in this program. It's called sponsors and the group conscience, right? Well, I'm not sure how short it will be. Some of you it won't be as short as you'd like, but it will be honest and it will be my experience, strength, and hope. I'm not going to tell you that what I'm going to say is the best, the right way, or the only way to recover. It will be my experience. And the book tells me that my greatest treasure is my experience.

Some of you are not where I am tonight. I'm not where some of you are tonight. You may not be able to relate to what I'm going to say. You may have some things you need to tell me when I'm finished. I may have some things that you want to ask me about, and I'm available for anybody who wants to come and talk with me after this talk because you may not relate. And I really want us to share. And I really would love to hear from you if there's something you want to talk to me about. But it will be my experience, strength, and hope.

The one thing I have noticed consistently, beside the fact that alcohol whipped us, is that each of us when we come in this program drags an incredible amount of pain. Pain that is almost touchable. Pain that you can almost define by the way it looks. Certainly we know how it feels. I found only one power that is strong enough to deal with that pain. It's the power of love. It's the power of love.

When I was a little boy in Sunday school kindergarten in Western Kentucky in Mayfield, I used to swing in that little swing and they'd say, "God is love." And when I came to you people and you said, "Make a decision to turn my life and my will over to the care of God as we understand him," all I could think of was God is love. God is love. God is love.

Approximately three years ago, I became almost obsessed with the idea that maybe AA was in trouble. I thought, "My god, it's not going to continue to exist." And I talked to a young man who is down in Texas. Actually, an older fellow who told me he heard Bill Wilson giving one of his last talks. And someone asked him, "Bill, how long will AA be here?" And he said, "It'll be here as long as God wants it to be." So that took me off the hook. I don't have to worry about that anymore.

But I did ask a lady named Geraldine D up in New Jersey who's been sober now close to 50 years. And I asked her one time, I said, "Is there a difference, Geraldine, between when you came in AA and now?" And she didn't hesitate. She said, "Yes." I said, "What's the difference?" She said, "When I came in, there were at least 20 old-timers for every newcomer. And today there are almost always 20 newcomers for every old-timer." She said, "The challenge is that we must make sure that the principles are taught because maybe we will not be able to touch them one-on-one like we would like."

What I have found is that the face of AA is gradually changing. The principles are not. You know the picture that shows the two men sitting beside the bed and there's a guy sitting on the bed in his t-shirt, and this is a 12-step call. That was the face of AA. Three men sitting in a hospital room. And that became precious to us. Became precious to me because it was the principle of love.

Malaki and I talked at Bowmont, Texas approximately 4 to 6 months ago. And I saw how the face is changing. The principle is not. I was a Saturday night speaker and on Saturday morning I got up to meditate and looked out across the pool. There were two little girls. I call them little girls because that's what they look like to me. They were approximately 15 years old. Seven o'clock in the morning. They are sitting at a poolside table. On the table beside them is the Big Book and a meditation book. And they're sitting opposite each other holding each other's hands. And they would sit silently like that. And then they would turn and read from that book. And then they would turn and hold each other's hands.

Two little girls. The face of AA may be changing, but the principle is people loving people as we each find that God is love.

I have found some things that have been constant for me since I came into recovery. Interesting enough, not many. The first thing I have found that has not changed for me in recovery is that I am constantly changing. I am constantly changing.

I would keep—you know, the alcoholic, at least this alcoholic, and all of you are just like me. The ones of you I know, I know are just like me. The ones I don't know, I know are just like me. And what our problem-solving technique is—we take a square peg, put it in a round hole. When it doesn't fit, we just get a bigger hammer and just beat it to death till we make that sucker fit. You know, well, that's the way it was in my recovery. Wham, hit the wall. Wham, hit the wall. Wham, hit the wall. And each time I hit the wall, I kept falling down. I'd see that there was a bloody nose. And I look in the mirror, and the only nose that was getting bloodied was mine.

And I began to realize that these were episodes for surrender. The change that has occurred in my life—I've heard people say, "These are plateaus of growth," which I can relate to intellectually inside my soul. What I relate to have been different plateaus of surrender. Kelly was screaming it to us last night at a different plateau of surrender, where I've surrendered to God's infinite power, infinite wisdom, and omnipresence. In each situation, I've had to surrender, usually through a six and seven-step format after becoming entirely willing and doing the preparation. But I've had to surrender.

What he has sent back to me through each of you, through many, many meetings, sponsors, and the support group is, "Burns, I love you, and I will give you the power. You got a job to do. Don't talk these steps to death. Don't tell me what the Big Book says. Do it. If you want it all, do the job. Do the job."

It took me 8 and a half years to get that message—to do the job. You hear Scott talk about the steps and the freedom he found when he did the steps. Two years, 5 years, 8 years, now 15 years. Each of those have been significant periods of surrender when I've had to recognize that I am not going to be able to control it. But I have a distinct job to be able to understand and to be able to do the process.

The second thing that has not changed in my life since I've been in recovery is that I am powerless over alcohol. Alcohol whipped me. It left me nothing. It left me no dignity. It left me no soul. It left me no heart. And it left me no hope. It whipped me.

I took amphetamine for 12 years with no alcohol. Amphetamine didn't whip me. Oh, it put me in mental institutions. It destroyed a marriage. It got me kicked out of medical school, but it didn't whip me. I quit taking amphetamine because it was messing up my life. Eight years of drinking, I quit drinking because it whipped me. Yeah, it messed up my life, but that was not what was bothering me. What was bothering me was it whipped me. It left me nothing.

When I'm sitting in a meeting, I hear somebody say, "Gosh, I'm really not sure I'm an alcoholic." I think it takes what it takes. But if you're an alcoholic of my type, I hope you find out soon because it whipped me. It left me nothing.

The third thing that has not changed in my life—it'll take a power greater than me to restore me to sanity. Oh yeah, it took a power greater than me to restore me to sanity from the insanity of drinking. But I'm talking about the power greater than me to restore me to sanity from the insanity of sobriety. I've made as many dumb decisions sober as I made drunk.

I practiced family medicine for 25 years. And a year ago, the first of January, I retired from family practice. Actually, I became chairman of the impaired physicians for the state of Kentucky. As long as God wants me to be here, I will be here teaching, trying to teach doctors how to treat us, trying to teach us how to relate to doctors, trying to share my experience, strength, and hope. And I'm very grateful for that.

Approximately two years ago, I was walking down my office hall and that particular day, I was just fed up with me. You ever get fed up with yourself? You know, where you're just fed up. And that day, I was just fed up with me.

What had prompted it is that my front office girl had gotten a chart out and didn't bring the patient back 25 minutes late. My nurse didn't take the temperature of the blood pressure, put the patient in the room 15 minutes late. I walk in the room, the patient's on me with both feet and all the claws that she had. And I'm sitting there thinking, "Hey man, I didn't cause this." But I'm diplomatic. I said, "Pardon me." And I walked out and did the only thing I could do under those circumstances. I fired both the nurse and the receptionist.

And I sat there and I thought, that's dumb. And I thought, how long have I got to deal with this insatiable ego? Now, I'm talking about the insatiable ego that says my way or the highway. I'm not talking about that insatiable ego that wants to skydive naked at the Super Bowl. You know, that's not the kind of ego I'm talking about. And see, there's not one alcoholic in this room that wouldn't love to skydive naked at the Super Bowl. Those of us who are humble would wear a mask, you know.

But let me tell you about the guys. All the guys would just love to wear a mask and say, "But they recognize me." Yeah. No, I'm not talking about that kind of ego. I'm talking about that ego that says my way or the highway.

And I did what y'all taught me. The 10 steps. Each day we'll face self-centeredness, dishonesty, resentment, and fear. What do we do? We ask God to remove it. We talk to somebody. We make our amends. And we help somebody. This program is real simple. Not easy. Wilson said that. Requires the destruction of self-centeredness. Real simple.

I walked in, got on my knees, and I said, "God, please take this away." Picked up the phone, called some people in the program I knew, and we talked. And I went back out. Did the first thing I did—make amends. Hired both the girls back. They hadn't left because I fired them the same way 6 months before. They knew I was coming back. Made my amends. Went to the meeting that night, the men's meeting, which is my home group on Tuesday night. Walked into the meeting. I said, "Anybody got a problem?" I said, "Yeah, I got a problem." They said, "What's the problem?" At this time, I'm 13 years sober. And I raised up my hand. I said, "Yeah, I got a problem." They said, "What is his burden?" I said, "How long have I got to deal with this insatiable ego?"

There was kind of real stunned silence for a minute. Finally, one of the guys about my age—he'd been in the program for two years. I sponsored the first year. He raised his hand. He said, "Burns, I don't know how long you got to deal with it." He said, "But you taught me that we just have to deal with it for today. You know, you raise them and they jump up and bite you right in the butt, don't you? Isn't this a wonderful program? There aren't no gurus. Tonight's guru may not be able to pick his nose without threatening his brain tomorrow night. You know, the group conscience doesn't allow for that. Tonight, we'll close hands in a circle and we'll say the Lord's Prayer. Ain't that wonderful? No gurus. No gurus.

How long have I got to deal with this insatiable ego? In addition to one day at a time, what I found is to maintain that spiritual condition. I didn't find that. It's written in our book. And I tell you, one of the hard ones—you know, there's somebody the other night said he was scared he might lose $50 he was carrying in his pocket one night at the meeting. He said, "Where's the safest place I can put it?" Somebody said, "Put it in your Big Book. Nobody will find it there."

But it's written in that book—"Maintain My Spiritual Condition." You know how I maintain that spiritual condition? I have a sponsor. I have a home group. I go to 4 to 5 AA meetings a week. I still set up the coffee and the literature. I work with other alcoholics. I do those 12 steps, and it's taken me to a God of my understanding.

One of the interesting little twists that I found is that today when I said, "Dear God, help me do the next right thing today," I found if I would just say, "Please don't let me do anything to hurt myself or to hurt anybody else," it's a fascinating experience I've had. Every time I hurt myself, you pay for it. Then I pay for it. But before I realize I pay for it, I'm going to blame you every single time.

Let me tell you what I mean by "don't let me do anything to hurt myself." Like that telephone call that might start that clandestine affair. Pay my bills. Don't scream at the IRS. Get up on time. Get to work on time. Make those 12-step calls. Those things that say "don't let me do anything to hurt myself." And it's working very well.

Alcoholism has been called a disease of perception. See, when you read that book also, it says, "Our problem is self-centeredness driven by a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking, and self-pity." Maybe y'all can't relate to that. But the self-delusion and fear, boy, do I know that in spades. And driven by those hundred forms, I can make through this disease myself believe anything I want to believe, to do anything I want to do, whenever I want to do it, to anybody I want to do it to.

Now, when I was drinking, it was to get drunk. Today it's just to get whatever I want. And I'm going to tell you a joke about perception. I'm telling you this as a joke because I've been telling it for 10 years. It's a wonderful joke and I tell it beautifully. It is incredible how well I tell this joke. And if you've heard it, laugh anyway. You'll probably laugh because I just tell it so well.

There's this airline pilot sitting at 10,000 feet. I don't know anything about flying, so give me a little poetic license. He said at 10,000 feet, the ceiling's 100 feet off the ground, and he's calling the tower. And the tower says, "You got one chance to land this plane. If you put that plane on that runway, you got to stop it. You got one chance to stop it." He said, "Now, if you don't want to try it, you don't have to try, but you got one chance to stop it." He said, "All right, I'm going to try to land." He said, "You don't have to." "No, I can do it." Said, "All right."

So he comes down through that 100-foot ceiling and throws that plane on that runway, throws on the brakes. The tires squeal. Smoke comes up off the tires. The nose of the plane comes right up over the edge of the runway, just sits there and shudders and settles down. The pilot is just sitting there sweating like heck. He turns around to the co-pilot and he says, "I believe that's the shortest runway I've ever seen." Co-pilot sitting there sweating, turns around, looks at him. He said, "Yeah, but did you notice how wide it is?"

You can see, you can hear the people as it ripples through the crowd. They're coming up with it. They figure it out why. Well, they had a common problem but a different perception. My recovery was the same thing. A difference in perception.

Let me tell you about it. I was born and raised in a little town in Western Kentucky named Mayfield. Little town of about 10,000 or 12,000. I was born in a home where there were no alcohol and there were no drugs. My grandfather died drinking in the Mayfield city jail. My mother was raised in that home where she was molested physically, emotionally, and sexually. She brought that family disease of alcoholism into our home.

And if you don't believe that there's a disease that occurs that way, if you haven't been in the middle of it—and most of you have—then read the "Family Afterward." What it in essence says is if you're around us when we're drinking, you get goofy. And mother got goofy. She was a loving, gentle, kind little lady. But she dragged that whole disease of alcoholism into our home.

They had an interesting way of treating alcoholics in Mayfield at that time in the mid-30s. AA had not started. When my grandfather got drunk, they put him in jail. When he sobered up, they put him on a chain gang with shackles around his ankles. He swept the Mayfield city streets in a chain gang. And mama used to walk to school at least once a month past her daddy sweeping the Mayfield city streets.

When I was in treatment and I got ready to leave after two months, they asked me to stay another month and I said, "No, I'm going home. I know what you told me to do." They said, "Well, you ought to stay because you haven't dealt with your anger." And I said, "You kissed my behind." Of course I've dealt with my anger. Only I didn't say "behind," Skinny. I said, "But I'm using 'behind' tonight. I want you to know that."

Skinny taught me a lesson one time, but I had a good message. Just watch my language. And I've always remembered that, and I've always been grateful for it. Did you kiss my behind? I have dealt with my anger. He said, "No, you haven't. But come out here. I want you to sit in this little circle."

So there about 30 in a circle and I sit out in the middle. The counselor is opposite me. He said, "Answer me as quick as you can. Just like that. Don't worry about what I ask. Don't worry about what you say. Just answer me." First thing he said was, "Who do you hate most in this whole world?" I said, "I hate my mother's guts."

And through a series of questions that seemed like a week but was about 45 seconds, I ended up on my knees, grasping him around his calves, screaming how much I love my mother and how much I hated me. And he picked me up and kissed me on the cheek. And he said, "Now you know what the problem is. Go home and get into Alcoholics Anonymous, and you will be all right if you do what they tell you to do." He said, "But I want you to remember one thing. Remember the pain of your mother. Remember the pain of your mother."

And when I pictured my mother walking to school past her daddy in a chain gang, sweeping the Mayfield city streets in a little town in Western Kentucky—redneck all the way in the middle of the 30s—I knew her shame. And for the first time in my recovery, I began to feel what is the essence of recovery. I began to feel someone else's pain and wanted to help make that better. Wanted to help make that better.

In that home, it was a supportive home. We went to church on Sunday. We went to church on Wednesdays. There was a lot of love. There was a lot of support. Mother's alcoholism came out in conditional love. If I was perfect, she talked to me. If I wasn't, she didn't. So I solved that problem. I became perfect.

If you'd seen all my list of accolades when I was growing up, you'd have thought that maybe one day I'd be president of the United States. But never an alcoholic. Alcohol was no problem for me in high school. It was no problem in college. When I got into medical school, I walked into medical school.

Let me tell you, every alcoholic I've ever known, I know what irritable, restless, discontented mean long before I took a drink. I know what it meant. There's been a motor running in me. The professionals call it stimulus augmentation. We call it what Silkworth said was irritable, restless, discontented. But there's been a motor running in me as long as I can remember. Every drunk I've ever worked with, there's a motor running. We say we drink because it makes us feel better. The reason we drink is because it makes us feel better is because that motor stops.

And that motor said for me, "Get from A, get to B, get back to C. What'd you miss at D? Get to A. You missed it at D. Get back to C. Go to A." And that's the way it was.

I walked in that class. There were 100 members in that class. And I looked, and 99 of them looked like they ought to be doctors. And I didn't. Straight A student in high school, straight A student in college. And I felt like they look great. They ought to be a doctor. I need to get the hell out of here. I can't be a doctor. There ain't no way. There is no way I can be a doctor.

I packed up to go home after about one week. And as I was walking out of school, a good friend of mine walked up and gave me this little capsule. And he said, "Take this. It'll help you study." And he gave me an amphetamine. I took that amphetamine. And the motor stopped.

There have only been three things I've ever found that stop my motor. Amphetamine, alcohol, and the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. Those are the only three things that I have found that stop my motor. But amphetamine stopped my motor. First semester, my freshman year in medical school, I was number one in my class. Second semester, I was number 100. Amphetamine owned me almost from the beginning.

Two weeks before graduation, my senior year in medical school, 1962, I was kicked out of medical school, causing an amphetamine rage. I beat up one of my medicine professors. They took me to the head of the department of psychiatry. Dr. Keller looked at me and said, "Burns, what's wrong with you?" And I said, "I take too many drugs, Dr. Keller." He said, "We can help you with that." And I said, "What are you going to do?" He said, "We're going to put you in intensive psychiatric therapy. You're going to figure out why you take that amphetamine. And once you figure out why you take it, you won't have to take it anymore."

Their perception of recovery is you're going to think yourself into a way of acting. That's called cognitive thinking and cause and effect thinking. And it works beautifully in everyday living. If I'm standing on the curb and I see a bus coming, I cognitively say, "If I don't want to get hit by that bus, I'm not going to step in front of it." I've even learned today that if I say I'm going to pray and step out in front of that bus, it's still going to run over me every damn time. Just like that.

So cognitively, I've learned not to step out in front of that bus. And it works beautifully for daily living. It does not work—at least in my case—to stop me from taking amphetamine.

I'm not anti-psychiatry. Neither is the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. Carl Jung and Harry Tiebout were two psychiatrists who were major contributors to Bill Wilson's thinking and our program of Alcoholics Anonymous. I am anti-ignorance, and that's why I've devoted my life, as long as God wants me to, to teach those in my profession how to treat us. And there is a lot of ignorance, but we're winning. There's a lot of ignorance in AA too, and we're helping each other to overcome that.

Psychiatry helped me. They taught me how to identify feeling. For two years, I was off amphetamine. Didn't take any drugs. Didn't drink because alcohol was not a problem. When I got ready to go back into medical school and that feeling they taught me—real fear, real resentment, real anxiety—when I came to you people, you put it in a fourth step and shoved it through the rest of the steps to a spiritual solution. That's exactly what happened. But psychiatry did help me to properly identify feeling, and many people I've worked with in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous really don't know what their feelings are. They're bouncing all over the place and they don't know how to identify them. They don't know that anger can be fear. They don't know that anger can be resentment. All they know is anger.

Psychiatry helped me. When I got ready to go back into medical school, a psychiatrist looked at me and said, "How do you feel?" And I said, "I'm afraid." He said, "Why are you afraid?" And I said, "They're going to be watching me." He said, "Should they be watching you?" I said, "Yes, they should." He said, "Why?" And I said, "Because I whipped one of them." He said, "Well, then they should be watching you. And you should be afraid. Therefore, you have a legitimate fear. They have a legitimate objective on their part. Now you can own the feeling. The feeling won't have to own you, and you can be fine. You figured this out." I said, "Hallelujah. I figured this sucker out."

I went back into medical school, and within one hour, I was strung out on amphetamine again. At that time in the early 60s, amphetamine was not a controlled substance, and we used to keep huge stacks of it down in the OB-GYN clinic to give the women who were pregnant to control their weight. I walked right into the school, walked right down to the OB-GYN clinic, and was strung out in less than an hour.

And I sat there and cried because I didn't know what would happen. That whole year, my classmates enabled me. They'd take me home when I'd get too hot. My wife would put me to bed, call the medical school, tell them I had the flu. They knew I had the flu probably 25