I'm a doctor and my patient just died.
I'm a doctor and her death made me cry.
She died ten minutes ago on the operating table.
I thought that I could save her but I wasn't able.
It was pure hell to tell her parents that she didn't make it.
Being a doctor is important but sometimes
These things make me want to forsake it.
But I can't forsake the sick and so I have to go on.
It's never easy to accept that a patient is gone.
When I save a patient, it always makes me feel pride.
But losing a patient makes a small part of me die inside.
I will continue to practise medicine and help my fellow men.
I took a hippocratic oath and I'll save as many people as I can.
(This is a fictional poem but it's something that real Doctors experience.)