So I abandoned my time as a junior doctor to spend nearly three months in the Himalayas. Between her time in hospital and my time in the Himalayas, it meant my wife and I spent six months apart that year.
Everyone else from my class got registration and I was months behind them when I got back, but that time in the Himalayas was very formative.
One, it was very interesting to be in such a remote place. This was before tourists had discovered the area. I got to know Kaye Ibbotson very well and became convinced research was the career I wanted, rather than clinical practice.
It was a slow journey, not an epiphany. I was a good doctor. I had good diagnostic and bedside skills, but I was intrigued by intellectual discovery and wanting to know more.
And it was nice to be with Ed Hillary for a few weeks and see this great man at work with his schools and hospital.
One day he looked at me and said: "Did you do maths?"
"Yes."
"Right. That makes you an engineer." And he sent me off with a Sherpa for a day and a half to inspect a monastery he had built.
It seemed all right. So, I had my rancid, salted yak butter and wandered back with the Sherpa. Halfway back there was an absolute white-out and we couldn't see anything. I started talking to him and discovered he had probably been to the top of Everest more times than any other human. I asked why he wanted to climb mountains. He said it was a job.
For me it was a very valuable time. I met a bright scientist and in the discussions we were having over campfires - it sounds romantic, but it wasn't - I came to learn about what was then called the sulfation factor, which later became the hormone that I spent 10 years of my life working on and did my thesis on. I came back convinced I'd do one year as a house surgeon then go into a research career. Without that time, I'm not sure how my career would have developed.