Now I was just angry atmyself for agreeing to review the charts. "Yeah, I'm fine. Justanother patient."I pushed through the doors and saw Stephen an... Kara, his wife, sittingthere. Expectant. They teach you all kinds of shit in med school, butthere's no class in managing expectations. Or there is, but it's aboutmaintaining clinical distance. Which, as I looked at Stephen's face,wasn't an option. Since I was a little kid, 5 to his 7, I could tellwhat he was feeling just by looking in his. Tears. Tears were coming from my eyes. I wasn’t thinking about how I felt, though - that would have required me to stop. “How could you do this to me?!” I roared, getting closer to the bag. I was starting to lose my technique, my fury now becoming more prominent than my focus. I didn’t care how I punched her - as far as I knew, the more the better. “Kill yourself!” I wasn’t even aware that I was the person that was saying these things anymore. I wasn’t aware of how, after a bit, I was no longer. More

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