Patients tended to get it, though. When one of them said thank you, you knew they meant it—even if it felt like it wasn’t for anything special, just one of the smaller horrors thrown at you that day. I’ve kept every single card a patient has given me. Birthday and Christmas cards from family and friends would always get thrown away, but these guys survived every house move, escaping even my cathartic clear-out of medical paperwork once it was all over. They were little fist bumps that kept me going, rays of thoughtfulness from my patients that hit the spot when bosses couldn’t, or wouldn’t,
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