23/06/2026
“They regret all the years spent being necessary to strangers while being absent to those who loved them.”
This is my favourite sentence in the whole book. It came out almost on its own — the kind of line you don’t so much write as finally admit.
Writing Confessions of an Aesthetic Surgeon turned out to be the most cathartic thing I’ve done in surgery without ever picking up a knife. Fifty-two principles, written for every phase of a career — the registrar, the surgeon mid-stride, and the master near the end. But the chapter that undid me was the last one: the surgeon’s life beyond the operating room.
No surgeon on his deathbed has ever said, “I wish I’d spent more time in the hospital.” They say, “I wish I’d been there.”
I wrote this book to make peace with that — and to pass the warning along while it’s still early enough to matter.
All proceeds go to the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund. 🦍
Confessions of an Aesthetic Surgeon: What the Knife Cannot Teach You — out now.
Link in bio.