smug

Another amazing post from the "J. M. Coetze" equivalent in the medical blogosphere. Bongi is a general surgeon in South Africa and a phenomenal writer. This link is definitely worth reading in its entirety.
Uvealblues


the thing is i can't forget. i am scarred. i remember the patient lying in a pool of his own blood, looking up at me and asking, beseeching even to tell him he is going to be ok. i remember wanting to tell him that it would all turn out just fine. i even remember wanting to hold his hand because his mother wasn't there to take care of the emotional side of things. in the end i remember not telling him he would be ok because i wasn't sure he would. i also remember not being the mother he needed in the last moments of his life because that is what it turned out to be. after we had plough through the blood and feces floating around in his abdomen, violated by the bullet fired from the gun of someone my friend feels i must understand, the patient died. he did not die well with his mother or wife holding his hand in love. he died alone in some icu ward with adrenaline being pumped into his veins and oxygen being pumped into his lungs with a scarred doctor who felt that his time may have been better spent holding the patient's hand rather than pouring time and energy into a futile attempt to save his life. you see the reason i can't see the side of the killer is that the killer is still alive and has the sentiments of my learned friend to feel for him. my patient is dead and there was no one next to his bed when he died. there is no one to state his case now.