Image-Guided Surgeon (IR) • Founder, GigHz • Creator of RadReport AI, Repit.org & Guide.MD • Med-Tech Consulting & Device Development at GigHz
Answered 5 months ago
My wife and I met in the most unlikely place: the wedding of my ex-prom date. She wasn't an ex-girlfriend—her brother had asked if I'd take her to prom years earlier, and we stayed friendly. When she got married, she was kind enough to invite me. I almost didn't go. I was a surgical intern at Cedars-Sinai, exhausted, and about to move to New York for residency. But I showed up, took a seat at my assigned table, and there she was—my future wife. We only had four months together before I had to leave for residency at Montefiore in the Bronx. She's very traditional, and her parents were worried about long distance. Honestly, so were we. But we made it work. She'd fly out to see me, and my parents—who lived in New York—welcomed her like family right away. After I finished training, we got married, and she moved with me to the Upper East Side. From there, life became an adventure: years in New York, a stint in Atlanta for fellowship, and finally settling in sunny Southern California. Three kids later, we still look back at that wedding table and laugh. If I'd skipped that night—or if the seating chart had been different—none of this life would exist. Our story isn't dramatic in the Hollywood sense, but it's full of those small, improbable moments that end up changing everything. What makes it work is simple: we kept choosing each other, even when the timing made no sense. And we've been blessed to experience the entire journey side by side. —Pouyan Golshani