“It was as though his friends were seeing a David Arndt, version 2.0—a better-looking package but one that lacked the charm of the original release. ‘He once told me, “I'm like Dorian Gray. I just get better looking as I get older,” ‘ Colfax recalls. ‘It takes a certain personality to just state that. And I thought it was an interesting literary reference, considering what the novel was about.’
“The central character in Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray manages to defy age and remain youthfully handsome. But he loses his inner compass. In the end, Dorian Gray pays dearly for his vanity.
“If David Arndt sounds a little too intense, a little too arrogant, ask yourself this: Aren't those exactly the qualities you want in a surgeon? Because this is what his arrogance looked like for most of his time in the operating room: An intolerance for error. An eagerness to take on the toughest cases. A fearlessness about confronting anyone—be it an orderly or a chief of surgery—who he thought was underperforming. Even as an intern, he would routinely challenge the attending physicians. ‘Interns are supposed to always back down, but not David,’ recalls Alexandra Page. ‘The rest of us were like, “You go, man!”’”
The City of Broken Men
Devin Friedman • GQ • July 2008
Inside Landstuhl, the single German hospital where every American soldier wounded in Iraq or Afghanistan is treated.
“‘You know whose birthday it is, too?’ W. says. “That guy who got his nuts blown off. He’s 21 years old, sitting in the intensive-care unit. His penis was what they call degloved. The whole top layer of skin was blown off. Happy birthday, right?’ Tears well up in her eyes, and she tries to hide them with the back of her ﬁst. She doesn’t pretend to hide them; she genuinely seems pissed that she’s crying. W. doesn’t want to be laying claim to the pain of these people. I remember talking to a vascular surgeon who came here unpaid, and while he found the work totally satisfying, he still felt somehow that the war was a total mystery to him. Sigmond’s friend (he doesn’t want his name printed) says, ‘There’s a disconnect between soldiers and the people who are taking care of them. The soldier will look to see if you’ve got a combat patch. They see I have one, so sometimes that helps. But they also know I’m not there. So we’re all kind of outsiders.’
“The truth is that the men who come to the hospital on those buses, they mostly seem so far away that you can barely see them. You can walk into the wards and turn on your tape recorder and talk to them for an hour or so while they ﬁght to pay attention to you instead of whatever signiﬁcant pain they are in, you can watch them in the operating room while they lose consciousness, you see what they look like and try to understand the events that brought them here and imagine what all that must be like. But what happened to them happened to them, and though you are in the same physical space, you may as well be on the phone to Mars. W. and her friend, they are saying that the folks here at the Irish pub know what it’s like to work here, to lay hands on the catastrophically injured. But even they do not really have access to them.”
The Miracle of Molly
Amanda M. Faison • 5280 • August 2005
After their daughter was born with a deadly bone marrow disease, Lisa and Jack Nash became the first parents in history to genetically engineer a child in order to create a donor for her. The story of saving 5-year-old Molly and the public debate that followed.
“At 1:20 p.m. on Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2000, a nurse walked into Molly's room carrying a bag of her new brother's blood. A rabbi joined the family to bless Molly's ‘new life.’ While the slow, syrupy-thick drip began, Molly's family sang happy birthday—what everyone hoped would be the beginning of the rest of her life—and snapped pictures. Molly's baby brother, not even a month old, sat on her lap.