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I learnt today that sometimes it stinks to be a doctor.

It stinks because every once in a while you meet a 75 year old patient who claims a piece of your heart.

It stinks because you end up stopping by their room whenever you can just for a chat.

It stinks because you quickly realise you are kindred spirits.

It stinks...

... because there's a reason you've met them.

... because there's a reson they're in hospital.

... because there's a reason why you're their doctor.


And you want to cry. And hide. From the unknown. From the uncertainty. From your utter helplessness, and their total vulnerability.

And it hurts.

And you don't want it to happen again.

And you start to guard your heart? Floating in and out of rooms, questions without the connection.

Because otherwise it hurts... a little too much.