Once I had the placenta, I said, “I need something to clip the umbilical cord. Where can I find something?” My main concern then was to clamp the umbilical cord, and I had no idea what to use.
Without answering me, Candy pulled herself out of bed and walked fairly steadily into the bathroom, returning immediately with a large bobby pin. I put it on the cord. About that time I heard the paramedics arriving. They took Candy and our newborn, whom we named Benjamin Carson, Jr., to the local hospital.
Later my friends asked, “Did you charge a delivery fee?”
Too busy,” I told myself for the hundreth time. “Something’s got to change.” It was an echo, a bouncing off the wall echo, that I’d repeated time and time before.
This time I knew I had to make changes.
Like others at Hopkins, I faced a serious dilemma with an active neurosurgical career. Working in a teaching hospital demanded a greater commitment to time and patients than I would have faced if I’d had my own practice. “How do I find adequate time to spend with my family? “ I asked myself.
Unfortunately, neurosurgery is one of those unpredictable fields. We never know when problems are going to arise, and many of them are extremely complex, requiring a tremendous investment of time. Even if I devoted myself exclusively to a clinical practice, I would still have bad hours. When I throw on top of that the necessity of continuing laboratory research, writing papers, preparing lectures, remaining involved in academic projects, and more recently, presenting motivational talks to young people, there weren’t enough hours in any day or week. It meant that if I wasn’t careful, every area of my life would suffer.
For days I thought about my schedule, my commitments, my values, and what I could eliminate. I liked everything I was doing, but I saw the impossibility of trying to do it all. First, I concluded that my top priority was my family. The most important thing I could do was to be a good husband and father. I would reserve my weekends for my family.
Second, I wouldn’t allow my clinical activities to suffer. I decided to go all out to be the best clinical neurosurgeon I could be and contribute as much as I could to the well-being of my patients. Third, I wanted to serve as a good role model to young people.
Although I believe it was the correct decision, the process wasn’t easy. It meant budgeting my time, giving up things I enjoyed doing, even things that would further my career. For instance, I’d like to do more publishing in the medical field, sharing what I’ve learned and pushing toward more intense research. Public speaking appeals to me, and more opportunities were coming my way to speak at national meetings. Naturally, these outlets also would enable me to advance rapidly through academic ranks. Fortunately many of those things seem to be happening anyway, but not as fast as they would if I were able to devote more time to them.
Important also was the need to spend time in my own church. Right now I’m an elder at Spencerville Seventh-day Adventist Church. I’m also Health and Temperance Director, which means I present special programs and coordinate the other medical workers in our church. For instance, we sponsor activities such as marathons, and I help in coordinating such events and organizing the medical screening. Our denomination stresses health, and I promote the health-conscious magazines Vibrant Life and Health among our congregation.
I also teach an adult Sabbath school class in which we discuss the issues of Christianity and their relevancy to our daily lives.
The first step toward freeing my time took place in 1985. We had gotten so busy at the hospital that we had to bring in another pediatric neurosurgeon. This additional staff member took some pressure off me. Hiring another man was quite a step for Hopkins because, since the beginning of the institution in the last century, pediatric neurosurgery had been a one-person department. Even today few institutions have two professionals on staff. At Hopkins we’re talking about three, and possibly a fellowship in pediatric neurosurgery, because we have such a high volume of cases, and we see no signs of its abating.
Additional personnel didn’t really solve my dilemma, however. Early in 1988 I admitted to myself that no matter how hard I worked or how efficiently, I would never finish the work, not even if I stayed in the hospital until midnight. Then I made my decision—one that, with God’s help, I could stick to. I would leave for home every evening at 7:00 o’clock, 8:00 at the latest. That way I could at least see my children before they went to bed.
“I can’t finish everything,” I said to Candy, who has been totally supportive. “It’s impossible. There’s always just a little more to be done. So I may as well leave work unfinished at 7:00 p.m. instead of 11:00.”
I’ve held to that schedule. I finish my work at the hospital by 7:30, and I’m back at the office 12 hours later. It’s still a long day, but working 11 or 12 hours is reasonable for a doctor. Staying at it 14 to 17 hours isn’t.
As more speaking opportunities come, they involve traveling. When I have to go a great distance, I take the family with me. When the children get into school that will have to change. For now, whenever I’m invited to speak, I ask if transportation and accommodations can be provided for my family too.
We’re anticipating that my mother will be living with us soon, and she can take care of the children sometimes while Candy and I travel. As busy as I am, as many people as require my time, I think it will be good for Candy and me to be alone together. Without her support my life would not be the success it is today.
Before we married I told Candy that she wouldn’t see much of me. “I love you, but I’m going to be a doctor, and that means I’m going to be very busy. If I’m going to be a doctor I’ll be a driven person, and it’s going to take a lot of time. If that’s something you can live with then we can get married, but if you can’t, we’re making a mistake.”
“I can deal with that,” she said.
Did I sound selfish? Did my idealism cloud my commitment to the woman who would be my wife? Perhaps the answer is Yes on both questions, but I was also being realistic.
Candy has coped extremely well with my long hours. Maybe it’s because she is confident and secure in herself that she can support me so well. Because of her support, I handle the demands more easily.
While I was an intern and a junior resident, I was seldom around because I worked 100 to 120 hours a week. Obviously, Candy seldom saw me. I’d call her, and if she had a few minutes she’d come over and bring my meal. I’d eat, and we’d spend a few minutes together before she went home.
During that period, Candy decided to return to school. She said, “Ben, I’m at home every night by myself so I may as well go and do something.” Candy has a lot of creative energy, and she put it to use. At one church she started a choir, and an instrumental ensemble in another. During our year in Australia, she started a choir and instrumental ensemble.
We now have three children. Rhoeyce was born December 21, 1986, making us a family of five. I grew up without a father and I don’t want my sons to grow up without one. It’s vitally important that they know me, rather than just looking at my pictures in a scrapbook or magazine or seeing me on television. My wife, my sons — they are the most important part of my life.
CHAPTER 22
Think Big
Candy and I share a dream, a dream unfulfilled as yet. Our dream is to see a national scholarship fund set up for young people who have academic talent but no money. This scholarship would help them to gain any type of education they want in any institution they want to attend. Most philanthropic funds are too politically oriented and depend too much on knowing the right people or getting important people behind you.
We dream of a scholarship program that recognizes pure talent in any field. We dream of seeking out those gifted young people who deserve a chance for success but would never be able to get near it because of lack of funds.
I would very much like to be in a position where I could do something to help make that dream a reality.
I put THINK BIG into practice in my own life. As
my life moves forward, I want to see thousands of deserving people of every race moving into leadership because of their talents and commitments. People with dreams and commitments can make it possible.
“What’s the key to your success?” the teenage boy with the Afro asked.
It wasn’t a new question. I’d heard it so many times that I finally worked out an acrostic answer.
“Think big,” I told him.
I’d like to break this down and explain the meaning of each letter.
THINK BIG
T = TALENT
Learn to recognize and accept your God-given talents (and we all have them). Develop those talents and use them in the career you choose. Remembering T for talent puts you far ahead of the game if you take advantage of what God gives you.
T also = TIME
Learn the importance of time. When you are always on time, people can depend on you. You prove your trustworthiness.
Learn not to waste time, because time is money and time is effort. Time usage is also a talent. God gives some people the ability to manage time. The rest of us have to learn how. And we can!
H = HOPE
Don’t go around with a long face, expecting something bad to happen. Anticipate good things; watch for them.
H also = HONESTY
When you do anything dishonest, you must do something else dishonest to cover up, and your life becomes hopelessly complex. The same with telling lies. If you’re honest, you don’t have to remember what you said the last time. Speaking the truth each time makes life amazingly simple.
I = INSIGHT
Listen and learn from people who have already been where you want to go. Benefit from their mistakes instead of repeating them. Read good books like the Bible because they open up new worlds of understanding.
N = NICE
Be nice to people—all people. If you’re nice to people, they’ll be nice to you. It takes much less energy to be nice than it does to be mean. Being kind, friendly, and helpful takes less energy and relieves much of the pressure.
K = KNOWLEDGE
Knowledge is the key to independent living, the key to all your dreams, hopes, and aspirations. If you are knowledgeable, particularly more knowledgeable than anybody else in a field, you become invaluable and write your own ticket.
B = BOOKS
I emphasize that active learning from reading is better than passive learning such as listening to lectures or watching television. When you read, your mind must work by taking in letters and connecting them to form words. Words make themselves into thoughts and concepts. Developing good reading habits is something like being a champion weightlifter.
The champion didn’t go into the gym one day and start lifting 500 pounds. He toned his muscles, beginning with lighter weights, always building up, preparing for more. It’s the same thing with intellectual feats. We develop our minds by reading, by thinking, by figuring out things for ourselves.
I = IN-DEPTH LEARNING
Superficial learners cram for exams but know nothing two weeks later. In-depth learners find that the acquired knowledge becomes a part of them. They understand more about themselves and their world. They keep building on prior understanding by piling on new information.
G = GOD
Never get too big for God. Never drop God out of your life.
I usually conclude my talks by telling young people, “If you can remember these things, if you can learn to THINK BIG, nothing on earth will keep you from being successful in whatever you choose to do.”
My concern for young people, especially disadvantaged young people, first hit me the summer I worked as a recruiter for Yale. When I saw the SAT scores of those kids and how few of them made anywhere near 1200, it saddened me. It also bothered me because I knew from my own experiences growing up in Detroit that scores didn’t always reflect how smart people are. I had met a lot of bright youngsters who could grasp things quickly, and yet, for a variety of reasons, they scored poorly on their SAT exams.
“Something’s wrong with a society,” I’ve told Candy more than once, “that has a system precluding these people from achieving. With the right help and the right incentive, many disadvantaged kids could achieve outstanding results.”
I made a commitment to myself that at every opportunity, I’d encourage young people. As I became more well-known and started getting more opportunities to speak, I decided that teaching kids how to set goals and achieve them would be a constant theme of mine. Nowadays I get so many requests, I can’t accept anywhere near all of them. Yet I try to do as much as I can for young people without neglecting my family and my duties at Johns Hopkins.
I have strong feelings on the subject of American youth and here’s one of them. I’m really bothered at the emphasis given by the media on sports in the schools. Far too many youngsters spend all their energies and time on the basketball courts, wanting to be a Michael Jordan. Or they throw their energies toward being a Reggie Jackson on the baseball diamond or an O.J. Simpson on the football field. They want to make a million dollars a year, not realizing how few who try make those kinds of salaries. These kids end up throwing their lives away.
When the media doesn’t emphasize sports, it’s music. I often hear of groups—and many of them good—who pour out their hearts in a highly competitive career, not realizing that only one group in 10,000 is going to make it big. Rather than putting all their time and energy into sports or music, these kids — these bright, talented young people—should be spending their time with books and self-improvement, ensuring that they’ll have a career when they’re adults.
I fault the media for perpetuating these grandiose dreams. I spend quite a bit of time talking to the freshmen groups and trying to help them realize that they have a responsibility to each one of the communities they have come from to become the best they can be.
While going to schools and talking to these young people, I try to show them what they can do and that they can make a good living. I urge them to emulate successful adults in the various professions.
To the successful professionals I say, “Take young people to your house. Show them the car you drive, let them see that you have a good life too. Help them to understand what goes into getting that good life. Explain that there are many ways to a fulfilled life besides sports and music.”
A lot of young people are terribly naive. I’ve heard one after another say, “I’m going to be a doctor,” or “a lawyer,” or maybe, “president of the company.” Yet they have no idea what kind of work goes into achieving such positions.
I also talk to parents, teachers, and anybody else associated with the community, asking them to focus on the needs of these teens. These kids must learn how to achieve change in their lives. They need help. Otherwise things will never get better. They’ll just get worse.
Here’s an example of how this works. In May 1988 the Detroit News ran a feature story on me in their Sunday supplement. After reading the article, a man wrote to me. He was a social worker and had a 13-year-old son who also wanted to be a social worker. However, things had not been going well. The father had been evicted, then lost his job. He and his son were looking for their next meal and his world had turned upside down. He was so depressed that he was ready to commit suicide. Then he picked up the Detroit News and read the article. He wrote:
“Your story just turned my life around and gave me hope. Your example inspired me to go on and put my best efforts into life again. I now have a new job, and things are starting to turn around. That article changed my life.”
I’ve also gotten a number of letters from students in various schools who were not doing well, but, through their reading about me, seeing me on television, or hearing me speak, were challenged to redouble their efforts. They’re making an attempt to learn things and that means they’re going to be the best they can be.
A single-parent mother wrote, telling me she had two children, one of whom wanted to be a fireman, the other a doctor. She said they had a
ll read my story and had been inspired. Learning about my life and how my mother helped me turn my life around, actually inspired her to go back to school. By the time she wrote to me, she had been accepted into law school. Her children had turned their grades around and were doing very well. Letters like that make me feel very good.
At Old Court Middle School in the Baltimore suburbs they’ve started the Ben Carson Club. To be a member, students have to agree that they will watch no more than three television programs each week, and they will read at least two books. When I visited that school, they did a unique thing. Club members had previously received biographical information about my life and they held a contest. The winners were those students who correctly answered the most questions about me. On my visit, the six winners came to the stage and answered questions about me and my life. I listened, amazed at how much they knew about me and humbled that my life had touched theirs.
It still seems unreal to me when I go places and people are excited to see me. While I don’t fully understand, I realize that particularly for Black people in this country I represent something that many of them have never seen in their lifetimes — someone in a technical and scientific area who has risen to the top. I’m recognized for my academic and medical achievements instead of for being a sports star or an entertainer.
While this doesn’t happen often, it does happen, reminding me that I’m not the one big exception. For instance, I have a friend named Fred Wilson who is an engineer in the Detroit area. He’s Black, and the Ford Motor Company selected him as one of their top eight engineers worldwide.
He’s incredibly bright and has done outstanding work, yet few know about his achievements. When I make public appearances, I like to think I’m holding up my own life and all of the others who’ve shown that being a member of a minority race doesn’t mean being a minority achiever.
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