This is how most stories end in the hospital. Not with crash carts and sirens and electric shocks to the chest, but with an empty room, a crisp white bed, silence.

I can handle being married for my money; it's being married for my life insurance that gives me pause.

A free society, to be truly worthy of that name, owes healthy, competent individuals the right to end their lives on their own terms.

Such is the demographic paradox of a junior physician's relationship with his patients: I worry about how to extend their lives. This anxiety inevitably shortens my own.

Never make enemies of anyone younger or healthier than you are. They write your history.

I would prefer to believe that a market in fetal organs would empower women to use their reproductive capabilities to their own economic advantage.

Nothing spices up one's sex life like having a partner.