I no longer want to be a doctor.

I have seen four people very dear to me die and three people get sick in less than five years. The last death was a day ago and is the hardest because I was with this person in all stages of his illness, from the time he was diagnosed until the time that he died, right in front of me. Even harder that I am a doctor because as he collapsed in my arms I saw on his face that his life was escaping fast and no amount of prolonged resuscitation can revive him and all manners of prognostication were taking place simultaneously. I knew well enough what every figure on the frantic monitoring machines meant in spite of extreme denial welling in my head and heart. Every image is an assault to my soul, which has by now escaped my being.

All I am thinking right now is why, why, why, what is the point, what is the meaning of all these, no it cannot be happening at all, why why why. Why this amount of death, why know more than I should and suffer horribly for the significant amount of knowledge of the human body and its frailties that I possess.

I do not want to be a doctor. I do not want to be a watcher at the same time. It is a cursed position to be in.

Unfortunately. I am both, and can no longer undo everything.