I am a surgeon. Man’s salvation in extremely hazardous times. Disease has, and always will be the human race’s Achilles Heel. That is where I come in. A hero with a rapier or in my case a scalpel.

My question to that someone who decided my life, is simple and direct, “Why me?”

I don’t want to do this. Day in and day out. I don’t want to deal with oozing bodies and festering wounds. I simply hate the cries of pain, the hopeful questions, the dead lifeless bodies. The worst of all is the pacing feet, the wrenching cries of relatives and my stupid stoic face with the useless words,

“I’m sorry.”