I was drying dishes and absentmindedly singing the song that had been stuck in my head for days when my husband suddenly came barreling down the staircase and into the kitchen. Looking frantic, he asked me what had happened. We were both confused; he was convinced that I had cried out in pain, and he fully expected to walk in on a grisly cooking incident.
We quickly realized the source of the miscommunication. The song I’d been singing was Lady Gaga’s “Judas,” and I sounded like a lady in distress as I belted out, “Judas, Juda-a-a.”
Barry Schwartz’s book became a page-turner for me when he began discussing a survey of preferences in medical care. The majority of nonpatients said they would want to be in charge of their treatment if they were to get cancer, he reported. But most of those who actually had cancer wanted their doctors to take over.