The Patient [antikvár]

PROLOGUESYLVAN MAYS, M.D., STOOD BY THE VAST WINDOW OF HIS FIFTH-floor office and gazed out at the countryside, where late afternoon shadows were lengthening across the Iowa River. At fifty, he had just gone over ten million in net worth and was one of the few physicians who had actually seen his income increase since the advent of managed care. The decision to remain in Iowa had certainly been the right one. For sure, he had his detractors. Success always brought those. He was too entrepreneurial, some saida big fish in a small pond, too intent on building himself into a neurosurgical version of DeBakey or Menninger.What's so wrong with that? he wondered. DeBakey and Menninger were world renowned and respected, doing good on a global scale. What was so wrong with wanting to emulate them?The gleaming seven-story Mays Institute for Neurological Surgery had put Iowa City on the map and brought millions of dollars in research and industrial development grants to the university. Now, his robotics team was closing in on a real prizethe first microrobot to be approved by the FDA for use in neurosurgery. A preliminary application had already been submitted. Six months, maybe less, and the few remaining bugs in the system would be worked out. As it was, he was revered for cranking through more brain tumor cases than anyone else in the country. Now, with several researchers on the robotics project, and Sylvan Mays' name on every