“The temptation to quit was a traitor. It would not barge in boldly during the peak of my workload; often I was too preoccupied to contemplate on the dismal state of my personal life. Instead, it would reemerge during that silent minute in between surgeries, as I slumped on the floor and waited for the next patient to be brought in. It stared at me from a corner as I waited for the elevator doors to open, me holding both stretcher bed and oxygen tank and it's only an hour past midnight. It would whisper in my ear, to wake me up from a nap on the first Sunday afternoon that I got to spend at home in a long time. It would hold open my apartment door, as I donned my white coat, grabbed my keys, and rushed to morning ward rounds.”