During the four years of physician Margaret Overton's acrimonious divorce, she dated widely and indiscriminately, determined to find her soul mate and live happily ever after. While dating one of many Mr. Wrongs, she discovered that she had a brain aneurysm. She discovered it during sex.
Nearly dying is not the same as actually dying. You write your own obituary, say your good-byes, and then go back to work the next day. There's no relief. So she dated even more wildly awful men, biked obsessively, and crossed streets without looking. Her teenaged daughters, Bea and Ruthann, watched in horror. They'd always trusted her to be the sane one.
She went to Graceland seeking enlightenment and came home with a dancing-pelvis Elvis kitchen clock. She went to Mass; she liked the priest but not Catholicism. She took long midnight walks with her dog. The Fates, amused by her groping, decided to really let her have it. Her daughter and her mom were in serious accidents, four close friends died within a year. A man crushed her heart.
While giving comfort to those suffering around her, she came to understand herself as a caretaker who refused to take care of herself. She realized that being a patient had made her a better doctor, and being a doctor had saved her life in more ways than one. So she set out on a course to take control of her future, understand her strengths, and make herself, finally, independent of men.
And then she met Henry. The last man she would date.