Zeeshan “Thank-Goodness-There’s-A-Doctor-On-Stage” Ali, MD,
for “AutoCorrect and the Bitchin’ Syncs”
Growing up in Pakistan, I had more choices than my parents ever had. But still, there was a lot of pressure. On my 3-month birthday, my mother and father sat me down, held my head since I still had no real neck muscles, and explained my possible career paths:
1) I could become the greatest of all time (G.O.A.T.) goat herder of my village and later take my GOAT goat skills abroad and become an alpaca farmer in a village called Travelers Rest, South Carolina;
2) I could become The GOAT cricket player for the Motherland and later, in early retirement, try unsuccessfully to show people from the American village of Greer the rules, benefits, and nuances of Pakistan’s favorite pastime;
3) Find Osama bin Laden so the Americans would stop asking us where he is….. and then take my honed tracking skills to Oconee County SC to hunt deer and bear with a former moonshiner named One-Tooth Tony;
4) Stay in school for what will seem like several decades, study and train in medicine 20 hours a day in two countries and 5 American states, and rise to become the GHOOAZ: Greatest Hematology Oncologist of All Zeeshans, settling into the Village With A Thousand Orange Cones and Random Traffic Delays, called Greenville.
Now, as an infant who could only lip sync quietly or cry out loud uncontrollably, I did my best to negotiate, between gross burping and cute kicking.
Obviously, given my rare and exotic collection of antique hypodermic needles, infusion pumps, I.V. bags, catheters, and stethoscopes the size of Jay Leno’s garage…. along with a profound interest in gathering 14 vials of blood from even patients I like, I chose Career Number 4….. but with the negotiated caveats that I could play soccer instead of cricket, do some hiking, spend time with my family, and indulge my renewed interest in lip sync-ing, when not working 16-hour days.
So please, be gentle and generous. Don’t make me cry uncontrollably again
