This mindset doesn’t take anything away from the deeply human, emotional nature of the work we do in labor and delivery. If anything, it helps us serve our patients more fully. Thinking like a scientist allows us to be better listeners, more effective problem-solvers, and stronger advocates for both mothers and babies.

Curiosity Is the Core of Good Medicine

I’ve always believed that the best doctors are the ones who are still curious. Not just about rare diseases or unusual cases, but about everyday moments in the delivery room. Why did this labor stall? Why did this patient respond differently to a medication? Why are outcomes better at one hospital than another?

These questions matter. They push us beyond routine. They remind us that every patient is different, and that science is not a finished book but a living process.

Being curious doesn’t mean you don’t know your stuff. It means you know that medicine evolves. New studies come out. Guidelines shift. Populations change. Staying curious helps me adjust and personalize care, rather than rely only on what I learned in residency.

Evidence Over Ego

Let me be honest: medicine can be a high-pressure field. We are expected to know a lot, make fast decisions, and lead in moments of crisis. But in that environment, it’s easy to fall into the trap of certainty. It takes humility to say, “I don’t know yet, but I’m going to figure it out.”

Thinking like a scientist helps me put evidence before ego. It reminds me that I’m not the ultimate authority, and that’s okay. My job isn’t to always have the answer off the top of my head. My job is to seek the best answer, based on the best available information, and apply it with care.

When I teach medical students or residents, I try to instill this mindset early. You can be confident and still open to being wrong. You can be experienced and still keep learning.

Patients Deserve More Than Protocol

There’s nothing wrong with protocols. In fact, standardized care can save lives. But every OB knows that no two labors are alike. No two pregnancies are alike. And no two patients carry the same emotional weight into their delivery.

That’s why I believe it’s not enough to follow the checklist. We have to be able to ask, “Is this the best plan for this patient, in this moment?” That question is scientific at its core. It invites us to observe carefully, to draw on data, and to remain flexible.

I’ve had patients with rare blood types, patients with trauma histories, and patients with deeply rooted cultural preferences around birth. All of that requires more than memorized knowledge. It requires a thoughtful, adaptive approach. It requires thinking like a scientist.

The Intersection of Research and Compassion

Some people think research is cold or impersonal. But to me, the scientific mindset is the opposite. It says, “Your experience matters. Let’s try to understand it better.” Every time we take part in a study, contribute to data collection, or read new literature, we are saying to our patients, “You deserve care that’s evolving with the times.”

Scientific thinking also allows us to challenge systems that don’t serve our patients well. Whether that’s disparities in maternal outcomes, the overuse of interventions, or the underfunding of women’s health research, these are all problems that require both heart and rigor to address.

It’s About Better Outcomes, And Better Relationships

At the end of the day, this mindset isn’t just about improving outcomes on a spreadsheet. It’s about building trust. Patients can tell when their doctor is really listening, when we’re taking their questions seriously, and when we’re not just going through the motions.

When I approach my work with a scientist’s eye, I find myself asking better questions. And when I ask better questions, I build stronger relationships. That connection makes everything better — for the patient and for me.

A Practice Built on Learning

I didn’t start my career with this perspective. It grew over time. With every delivery, every unexpected complication, every late-night reading session, I came to realize that medicine isn’t static. Neither should my approach to it be.

Now, when I reflect on my work, I think of myself not just as a doctor, but as a lifelong learner. That mindset helps me serve my patients more fully, mentor new doctors more honestly, and grow into a better version of myself, both professionally and personally.

So, to every OB out there, and to every medical student considering this path, I say this: keep your curiosity alive. Be humble enough to question what you know. Be brave enough to change your mind. Your patients deserve a doctor who thinks like a scientist. And so do you.

The post Why Every OB Should Think Like a Scientist, Not Just a Doctor appeared first on Dr. Thomas Byrne.

Every time I step into a hospital room, scrub in for surgery, or sit across from a patient to deliver news, good or bad, I’m reminded of what grounds me. Being a doctor can feel like living in a storm some days. There’s noise, urgency, emotion, and an endless to-do list. But even in the most chaotic moments, I know who I am and where I come from. That steadiness comes from two places: my faith and my family.

People see the lab coat or the letters “MD” and assume we’re made of steel. But we’re not. We’re people first, and for me, staying human in this profession requires deep roots. My roots are in my faith and in the people who raised me, supported me, and still walk with me every day.

Medicine Is More Than Science

I entered medicine because I was drawn to science, but I stayed because of something more, compassion. In my faith, we are called to serve others, to meet people where they are, and to be present even in suffering. That’s the heart of good medicine too.

Faith has helped me show up with empathy, even when I’m tired or overwhelmed. It’s helped me sit with families in their hardest hours and listen without rushing. It reminded me that healing isn’t always about curing. Sometimes, it’s about bringing comfort, dignity, and hope. I didn’t learn that in medical school. I learned it in church pews, around the dinner table, and in quiet moments of prayer.

Family Is My Reset Button

There’s a lot of talk in medicine about burnout. And yes, long hours and emotional intensity can wear you down. But what keeps me from losing myself is my family. When I come home and hear my kids laughing or my partner asking how my day was, it’s like hitting a reset button.

They don’t care how many patients I saw or how tricky the diagnosis was. They care that I’m present. They help me keep perspective. They remind me that my worth isn’t tied to my job title. And when I’m able to step back and just be Dad or husband or son, I find the energy to keep going.

My parents taught me the value of hard work and humility. My partner reminds me to rest and to not take myself too seriously. My kids show me wonder and joy, even after a long shift. Family doesn’t just give me something to come home to, it gives me a reason to be the best version of myself at work too.

Hard Days and Holy Moments

There are days when the weight of this job feels heavy. When patients don’t get better. When tough decisions need to be made. When I lie awake wondering if I did enough. On those days, faith is more than a comfort. It’s a lifeline.

Prayer is where I leave my worries. Scripture reminds me that I’m not in this alone. There’s a bigger plan, even if I can’t always see it. That doesn’t make the pain disappear, but it gives it meaning.

And then there are the moments that feel sacred. A patient ringing the bell after chemo. A new baby’s first cry. A family saying thank you even when the outcome wasn’t what they hoped for. These are the moments that remind me why I chose this path. They are small glimpses of grace in the everyday grind.

Living What I Teach My Kids

At home, I tell my kids that being kind is more important than being right. That helping others matters. That who you are when no one’s watching is what counts most. I try to live those values in the hospital too.

I’ve learned that being a good doctor means being a good listener. It means treating people with respect, no matter their background. It means admitting when I don’t have all the answers. And it means showing up with integrity, day after day. These are not just professional values, they are the values I want to pass on as a father and a man of faith.

Balance Isn’t Perfect, But It’s Possible

People often ask how I balance medicine, family, and personal life. The truth is, I don’t always get it right. Some days I miss dinner. Some days I forget to call my mom back. Some days I lose patience. But I try.

I try to leave work at work when I can. I make time for family meals, even if they’re short. I carve out moments for faith, even if it’s just a quick prayer in the car. It’s not about perfection. It’s about priorities. And for me, those priorities are crystal clear.

Anchored for the Long Haul

Medicine is not just a job. It’s a calling. But even callings can be exhausting without the right support. I’m grateful that mine is rooted in something steady. My faith gives me purpose. My family gives me joy. Together, they anchor me through the highs and lows.

No matter how medicine evolves, no matter what the next chapter holds, I know who I am. I’m a doctor, yes. But I’m also a father, a husband, a son, and a believer. That’s the foundation I stand on. And it makes all the difference.

The post Why My Family and Faith Anchor Me, In Medicine and In Life appeared first on Dr. Thomas Byrne.

Ultrasound is one of the most essential tools in OB/GYN. It’s used in nearly every aspect of our specialty whether confirming an early pregnancy, monitoring fetal growth, diagnosing complications, or guiding procedures. And yet, many medical students enter residency with limited hands-on experience in ultrasound.

Having worked in this field for decades and having traveled overseas early in my own career to gain exposure to ultrasound before it was widely used in the U.S, I can tell you firsthand how much of a difference it makes to start your residency with a solid foundation in this technology.

Why Ultrasound Matters in OB/GYN

Ultrasound isn’t just a helpful tool, it’s a central part of how we care for patients in obstetrics and gynecology. It’s non-invasive, widely available, and provides real-time imaging that helps guide clinical decisions.

In obstetrics, ultrasound allows us to confirm viability, accurately date pregnancies, assess fetal anatomy, and monitor high-risk conditions like intrauterine growth restriction, placenta previa, and preeclampsia. In gynecology, it helps us evaluate pelvic pain, abnormal bleeding, ovarian cysts, fibroids, and early pregnancy complications such as ectopic pregnancies.

It’s hard to overstate how much of your day as a resident will involve interacting with ultrasound—either interpreting images or performing the scans yourself. The sooner you get comfortable with it, the more confident and competent you’ll be in the clinical setting.

Start With the Basics—And Practice

You don’t need to be an expert before starting residency, but having a working knowledge of the basics will give you a major head start. Here are a few key skills and concepts I recommend developing:

• Understand the physics: You don’t need to memorize every equation, but you should understand how ultrasound works, the types of probes, and the difference between transabdominal and transvaginal imaging.
  
• Know what normal looks like: Learn to identify basic anatomy—uterus, ovaries, bladder, gestational sac, yolk sac, fetal pole, and heartbeat. If you know what “normal” looks like, you’ll be able to recognize when something is off.
  
• Get hands-on whenever possible: Ask to shadow in radiology or ultrasound departments. If you’re on an OB rotation, volunteer to perform bedside scans. Practice probe handling, image acquisition, and orienting yourself to the screen.
  
• Learn proper documentation: Knowing how to record findings, measurements, and write a clear report (or at least a concise note) will save you and your team time.
  
• Ask questions and observe: Every time you see an ultrasound being performed, ask what the provider is looking for and how they’re interpreting what they see. You’ll absorb far more than you realize just by watching carefully.
  

How Early Training Sets You Apart

Residency is fast-paced. You’ll be expected to hit the ground running, and having confidence in ultrasound will make you a more valuable and effective team member from the start.

When your senior residents and attendings see that you can obtain a basic scan independently or confidently assist during a complex evaluation, they’ll trust you with more responsibility. That translates into better learning, more clinical exposure, and a stronger reputation in your program.

Additionally, your ability to use ultrasound early on will directly improve patient care. Whether you’re triaging a patient in the emergency department, evaluating a pregnancy concern overnight, or assisting during a procedure, being comfortable with ultrasound can help you make faster, more accurate decisions that impact real outcomes.

Resources to Build Your Skills Now

The good news is there are more learning resources available now than ever before. Some ways to get started:

• Online courses and tutorials: Many medical schools and organizations offer free or low-cost ultrasound modules. Look for those focused on OB/GYN or early pregnancy scanning.
  
• Simulation labs: If your school has a simulation center, ask about practicing with ultrasound models. Even synthetic models can give you valuable experience in probe handling and image acquisition.
  
• Textbooks and atlases: Books like Callen’s Ultrasonography in Obstetrics and Gynecology or Basic Obstetric Ultrasound are excellent references for building visual familiarity with common views.
  
• Apps and video libraries: Platforms like SonoSim, Butterfly IQ, or Radiopaedia offer mobile learning and scan demonstrations that you can review on your own time.
  

A Few Final Words of Encouragement

Ultrasound might feel overwhelming at first, and that’s okay. Like any clinical skill, it takes practice and patience. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, request feedback, or spend extra time reviewing scans after rounds.

Remember: every expert sonographer started as a beginner. What matters most is your willingness to learn, to be proactive, and to treat each opportunity as a stepping stone.

Start Early, Learn Often

Ultrasound is the heartbeat of OB/GYN. It allows us to see what we could only imagine just a generation ago and to care for our patients with greater clarity, safety, and precision. If you’re serious about this field, don’t wait until residency to start learning. Take initiative now, build your confidence, and develop the foundation that will support you for the rest of your career.

Residency will challenge you, but it will also shape you into the physician you’re meant to be. And with ultrasound skills already in your toolkit, you’ll be that much more prepared to rise to the challenge.

So roll up your sleeves, grab a probe, and get scanning. You and your future patients will be glad you did.

The post What Every Medical Student Should Know About Ultrasound Before Starting Residency appeared first on Dr. Thomas Byrne.

The Therapeutic Power of Woodworking

Woodworking might seem worlds away from the fast-paced environment of a hospital, but for me, it has become a powerful creative outlet and a much-needed source of stress relief. There’s something profoundly calming about working with wood—selecting the grain, shaping the pieces, sanding surfaces smooth, and watching a project come together step by step.

Unlike the clinical setting, woodworking allows me to slow down and immerse myself in a tactile, hands-on activity where I can see tangible results. The process demands focus and patience but also rewards creativity and problem-solving. Whether I’m building a small shelf or restoring a vintage chair, each project feels like a journey where the rhythm of work quiets the noise of daily stresses.

Parallels Between Woodworking and Surgery

Interestingly, I often find that the skills I practice in woodworking parallel those I use in surgery. Both require precision, attention to detail, and steady hands. In the operating room, a single millimeter can make a difference in patient outcomes. Similarly, in woodworking, careful measurement and exact cuts are essential to ensure pieces fit perfectly and the final product is structurally sound.

Patience is another shared virtue. In medicine, rushing can lead to errors or missed details, while in woodworking, haste risks ruining a piece or causing injury. The careful planning, the adjustments along the way, and the dedication to quality resonate strongly in both arenas.

This connection has deepened my appreciation for the craftsmanship inherent in both professions whether it’s crafting a piece of furniture or helping bring a new life into the world.

Why Work-Life Balance Matters

Being a physician is rewarding, but it can also be emotionally and physically exhausting. Burnout is a real concern in healthcare, and I have seen colleagues struggle with it firsthand. For me, carving out time for woodworking and antique restoration has been essential in maintaining my mental and emotional health.

Hobbies like these offer a chance to step away from screens, paperwork, and hospital corridors and engage different parts of the brain. They provide perspective and a sense of accomplishment that’s distinct from clinical work. When I return to my patients, I do so with renewed energy and focus.

Balancing work and personal life isn’t just a nice-to-have, it’s critical for long-term success and happiness in medicine. I encourage all healthcare professionals to find their own creative or physical outlets, whatever they may be.

Antique Restoration: Connecting Past and Present

Alongside woodworking, I’ve developed a passion for antique restoration. Restoring old furniture or heirlooms feels like connecting with history; each piece tells a story and carries the craftsmanship of past generations.

This hobby teaches me to respect patience and detail even more deeply. Restoring antiques is rarely quick; it requires gentle hands, careful cleaning, and thoughtful repair to preserve the original character while making the piece functional again.

In some ways, antique restoration is a metaphor for medicine itself. Both involve healing, preserving, and renewing. Just as I help restore health to my patients, I breathe new life into cherished objects, honoring their past while ensuring they can continue to be appreciated.

Lessons Learned From the Workshop

Working in my shop has taught me many lessons that apply beyond the bench:

• Patience Pays Off: Whether it’s waiting for glue to dry or carefully sanding a surface, patience yields better results—a principle I apply daily in clinical decision-making.
  
• Embrace Mistakes as Part of the Process: Not every cut or joint comes out perfect on the first try. Learning from errors and adjusting accordingly mirrors how we learn from complications or unexpected outcomes in medicine.
  
• Attention to Detail Matters: The smallest flaw can affect the strength and appearance of a piece, just as small details can influence patient care.
  
• Focus and Presence Are Key: Woodworking demands being fully present, a quality I strive to bring into patient interactions.
  

Encouraging Fellow Physicians to Find Their Outlet

Medicine is a calling, but it should not consume all of who we are. I often speak with colleagues about the importance of hobbies and interests outside of work. Whether it’s woodworking, gardening, music, sports, or art, having a creative or physical outlet is vital.

Finding something that brings you joy and allows you to decompress will not only improve your well-being but also enhance your clinical performance. When you nurture your whole self, you show up as a better, more compassionate provider.

Crafting a Balanced Life

Woodworking and antique restoration are more than just hobbies to me, they are a vital part of how I maintain balance, creativity, and calm in a demanding profession. They remind me that medicine, at its core, is both a science and an art.

Balancing precision with patience, technology with humanity, and work with personal fulfillment is an ongoing journey. Through the rhythmic hum of my tools and the careful shaping of wood, I find peace that feeds my passion for medicine.

If you’re a healthcare professional feeling overwhelmed, I encourage you to explore what creative or restorative activities might bring you that same sense of balance. Sometimes, the best way to care for others starts with caring for yourself.

The post Woodworking and Medicine: Finding Balance Through Hobbies Outside the Hospital appeared first on Dr. Thomas Byrne.

Most people are surprised when they learn that I spend my days delivering babies and my weekends working cattle. It’s not exactly a common combination, OBGYN and rancher. But for me, both callings feel natural. In fact, over time, I’ve realized they’re more alike than you might think.

At first glance, the sterile environment of a hospital and the rugged landscape of a ranch seem worlds apart. One relies on high-tech equipment, the other on weather forecasts and work boots. But both require attention, patience, resilience, and an unwavering commitment to care. Whether I’m guiding a mother through labor or helping a heifer give birth in the middle of the night, the principles are surprisingly similar.

Lessons in Observation

Medicine taught me how to pay close attention. To notice subtle changes in vital signs or shifts in a patient’s tone of voice. That same skill serves me well on the ranch. Animals don’t talk, but they communicate constantly through behavior, body language, and movement.

Recognizing when a cow is going into labor, or when something’s not quite right with the herd, requires the same kind of observational skill I use in the clinic. You have to be present. You have to care enough to watch closely and long enough to understand what’s normal and what’s not.

Long Hours, No Guarantees

Both professions demand long, often unpredictable hours. Babies and calves don’t follow schedules. Labor doesn’t care if it’s 3 a.m., and neither does a storm that might scatter your cattle. There’s a shared unpredictability that requires flexibility, stamina, and a deep sense of duty.

You show up. You adapt. And sometimes, even when you do everything right, the outcome isn’t what you hoped. In medicine and ranching alike, you learn to carry that weight with humility. You celebrate the wins, grieve the losses, and keep moving forward.

Responsibility Runs Deep

Whether I’m wearing scrubs or jeans, I carry the weight of responsibility. In the hospital, I’m trusted with people’s lives during some of their most vulnerable moments. On the ranch, I’m responsible for the health and safety of my animals, my land, and my team.

That responsibility is a privilege, but it’s also a constant. It doesn’t end when you leave the clinic or close the barn. You think about your patients and your livestock even when you’re off the clock. And that’s not a burden, it’s just part of caring deeply about what you do.

The Importance of Teamwork

No doctor works alone, and no rancher can run a place solo. Success in both fields depends on strong teams. In medicine, I rely on nurses, anesthesiologists, midwives, and support staff. On the ranch, I depend on experienced hands, veterinarians, and neighbors who show up when it matters.

Knowing when to lead and when to listen is just as important in a delivery room as it is in a branding pen. Mutual respect, communication, and trust keep both worlds running smoothly.

Problem-Solving on the Fly

If there’s one thing that both ranching and practicing medicine have taught me, it’s how to stay calm under pressure and think creatively. Emergencies rarely announce themselves in advance. Whether a mother’s labor stalls unexpectedly or a fence breaks during a storm, you have to assess the situation quickly and make smart decisions with the resources at hand.

You won’t always have ideal conditions. In fact, you usually won’t. But you learn to troubleshoot, stay steady, and work through it with whatever tools are available, sometimes literally with baling wire and duct tape.

Rooted in the Cycle of Life

There’s a certain rhythm to both ranching and obstetrics. Each is intimately connected to the cycle of life; birth, growth, challenges, and renewal. Being part of that rhythm has given me a deeper appreciation for the fragility and resilience of life.

Watching a newborn take its first breath, whether human or animal, is always profound. It never gets old. It reminds me of what really matters, and it keeps me grounded in a way few other experiences can.

Finding Balance Between the Two

People often ask how I balance two such demanding roles. The truth is, they balance each other. Medicine can be intense, with high emotional stakes and fast-paced decisions. Ranching, while physically demanding, brings a kind of peace. Being out on the land, working with my hands, and connecting with nature helps me recharge.

In many ways, the ranch is where I process the weight of what I see in the clinic. It’s where I slow down, reflect, and reconnect with the simple but powerful things, sunrise over the pasture, the sound of hooves, the smell of fresh hay. Those moments give me the clarity and strength to return to the hospital ready to give my best.

Full Circle: A Life Between Two Worlds

If you had told me years ago that I’d be just as comfortable in a delivery room as I am in a pasture, I might’ve laughed. But now, I can’t imagine one without the other. Each role makes me better at the other. Medicine has taught me to care deeply and think critically. Ranching has taught me to trust my instincts, stay humble, and never take life for granted.

Both have given me a sense of purpose that runs deep. And in their own way, they’ve shown me that no matter the setting, a life of service, whether to people or the land is a life worth living.

The post From the Clinic to the Ranch: The Surprising Parallels Between Medicine and Ranching appeared first on Dr. Thomas Byrne.

When I first started practicing obstetrics, my focus was clear: take the best possible care of my patients. That mission hasn’t changed, but over the years, I’ve come to understand that my impact can go even further by investing in the next generation of physicians. Teaching young medical professionals has become one of the most rewarding parts of my career.

There’s something incredibly fulfilling about watching a student go from nervous observer to confident caregiver. Being part of that transformation reminds me of my own early days and gives me renewed purpose every time I step into a delivery room, a lecture hall, or a teaching clinic.

The Power of Real-World Learning

Obstetrics isn’t something you can truly learn from a textbook alone. Yes, anatomy, physiology, and clinical protocols are important, but so much of what we do happens in real time, with real people, in often unpredictable situations. That’s where experiential learning comes in.

One of my goals as an educator is to create opportunities where students and residents can think on their feet, under supervision, of course. Whether it’s managing a shoulder dystocia or counseling a patient on prenatal screening options, I encourage them to engage, ask questions, and take ownership of their learning. Medicine is hands-on, and it’s my job to give them a safe space to learn by doing.

Teaching is a Two-Way Street

While I may have the title of “educator,” I’ve found that teaching is just as much about learning. Every time I work with a medical student or resident, I’m challenged to think critically, explain my reasoning, and sometimes even re-evaluate long-held assumptions. Their questions keep me sharp, and their fresh perspectives often spark new ways of thinking about familiar problems.

Some of the best innovations and improvements in our practice have come from young clinicians asking, “Why do we do it this way?” That curiosity is powerful. It reminds me that medicine isn’t static and neither should our teaching methods be.

Building Confidence, One Shift at a Time

It’s easy to forget how overwhelming medical training can be. I remember the first time I stood in an operating room, trying to recall every step of a procedure I’d only seen once. I remember the nervous energy of my first call night and the fear of making a mistake.

That memory helps me connect with learners where they are. I don’t expect perfection. What I do expect is effort, honesty, and a willingness to grow. My job is to help them build confidence—not by telling them they’re always right, but by showing them how to recover, reflect, and improve when they’re wrong.

And let’s be honest obstetrics can be emotionally intense. There are incredible highs and devastating lows. I try to model what it looks like to navigate those emotions while staying focused, compassionate, and professional. That’s part of the education, too.

The Importance of Mentorship

Beyond clinical skills, I believe one of the most valuable things we offer as senior physicians is mentorship. Medical school and residency are not just about academics, they’re about shaping identity. Who do you want to be as a doctor? What kind of person will you be under pressure? How do you lead a team? These are questions that don’t always have easy answers, and sometimes they aren’t even asked unless someone invites them into the conversation.

I’ve been fortunate to have incredible mentors in my own journey, people who saw potential in me before I saw it in myself. Now I try to do the same for others. Whether it’s sitting down for a coffee after a long shift or helping a resident prepare for fellowship interviews, these moments matter. They shape careers, build resilience, and create the kind of culture we want in medicine.

Teaching Keeps the Passion Alive

Obstetrics is a calling, and like any calling, it can be tested by long hours, difficult outcomes, and the emotional demands of the job. But teaching keeps the spark alive. Every time I work with a learner who’s genuinely excited to be there, it reenergizes me. Their questions, their determination, and their awe at the miracle of birth remind me why I started this work in the first place.

It’s easy to get caught up in the grind of daily practice. Teaching helps me slow down, reflect, and reconnect with the deeper meaning of what we do.

The Future Is Bright

There’s a lot of talk these days about burnout in medicine, and it’s a real issue. But I remain hopeful, because I see the caliber of students and residents entering our field. They’re smart, compassionate, and driven to make a difference not just in patient care, but in health equity, innovation, and advocacy.

My role, at this stage of my career, is to help clear the path for them. To offer the tools, guidance, and encouragement they need to thrive. In doing so, I believe we not only strengthen the future of obstetrics, we honor the profession as a whole.

Teaching the next generation isn’t a side project. It’s a central part of how I define success as a physician. It means leaving something behind that lasts longer than a single patient encounter. It means shaping the future, one learner at a time. And for me, there’s no greater privilege.

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