Sometimes

I love TV. I need TV. It may not be healthy. But sometimes patients die. And sometimes they're young. And sometimes their small children and spouses are in the room when they unexpectedly ...just. Die. And you worry about the child, because... How do you get over something like that? Being a second grader and watching your parent just... And you hear the child tell the social worker as she escorts the child from the room where you and your team of sometimes-superheroes break the child's parent's ribs attempting to coax the heart into beating again, "It's ok. S/he's done this before. S/he always comes back." Because s/he was sick. And s/he'd died before. But sometimes, they don't come back. Sometimes you're not a superhero. Sometimes you just become a face that a traumatized family member recalls when they're haunted by the worst day of their life. And sometimes you have to hit the reset button in your brain because the loved ones of your used-to-be-patient are surrounding them, and singing to them, and being together. And your patient with back pain is at the nurses station demanding to know why it's taking so long to be discharged. And another patient needs medication. And another patient needs labs drawn. And another physician needs assistance for an exam. And another twelve patients are hobbling through the doors. So, sometimes you need to come home, eat chocolate caramel truffles for dinner, turn on the TV, and cry because Will Gardner is dead. And the whole reason you watched the show was to see how he and Alicia would end up together in the end, because surely they would. And you need to cry because he's dead now, and it's sad. And sometimes you need to come home and take yourself to a world where vampires exist. Or where six twenty-somethings figure out life in New York City. Sometimes you need to wish that you were a size two black woman who solves problems for the White House. But today, you need to cry because Will Gardner died, and it's sad. Thanks TV.