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“Agreed.” The two men shook hands. My dad wrote about his new impression of Stephen in his journal: “The one friend who did come everyday was Stephen. He was terrific. I wasn’t that sold on him when I first met him, but he grew in my respect and regard with every day that passed.” My dad immediately called in a young resident, who came in and examined me, then rushed me out for an emergency MRI. My dad silently hurried beside the gurney, holding my hand until the MRI technician whisked me into the room, telling my dad to wait. In those thirty minutes, he would later sigh, he lost five years off his life. But the young resident eventually emerged to tell him that everything looked fine.
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