ABSTRACT
The second half of the American University of Beirut’s motto, which is the title of this chapter, will cover my medical school years and my first marriage. My life during these years was abundant, as well as abundantly turbulent. While I need not have worried about getting into medical school, I worried nonetheless, just as I had been when applying to college. The medical school admissions committee that interviewed me was chaired by Dr. Hrant Chaglassian, the professor of dermatology. He was Armenian and knew my father well. When he was a boy, his uncle and my father would have him carry bribes to the Ottoman officials (a story he would tell and retell me with great relish). When I entered the interview room, Dr. Chaglassian greeted me by my first name and his warm welcome set the tone for the interview. Dr. Musa Ghantus, the professor of anatomy, cheerfully asked me about my interest in medicine. I said I wanted to become a psychiatrist. What did I know about Freud? Well, I knew a lot about Freud (at least compared with him), and I launched into a spirited exposition of Freudian theory. He was duly impressed. After a few perfunctory questions by other committee members, I left the room, feeling certain that I’d gotten in. It was as easy as that.
