I have written three New York Times best-selling books about the Kennedys over my career. I thought I was through with the subject, but in recent years, as I read various new biographies of President John F. Kennedy, I realized a defining aspect of his life was missing. The president was a sickly man—one who used an endless stream of romantic partners to assert a healthy persona that did not exist. His poor health was a frightening business covered up by those closest to him.
As a teenager, Kennedy was misdiagnosed with leukemia. He was so sickly that he spent much of his time at Choate in an infirmary bed suffering from an assortment of mysterious ailments that could never be diagnosed. He hurt his back while playing junior-varsity football at Harvard, resulting in severe pain that stayed with him the rest of his life. Kennedy’s health problems nearly disqualified him from military service, requiring his father to intervene to get him a medical waiver. His heroic efforts in the South Pacific on the navy motor torpedo boat PT-109 during World War II earned him a Purple Heart but left him even more physically debilitated.