These days, my work feels like a place I go to for money.

Sometimes, all I want is to get home and rest, read a book.

But then, with a rush, the shift starts and soon enough a patient’s story will draw me in.

Suddenly work turns into a journey, a choose your own adventure tale where every choice I make as a physician spins me down a new river.

Without warning, one story ends and I am thrown off the falls into a brand new place, a new space, a new raft with a new patient.

Abruptly, work becomes whitewater, with everything rushing by; pieces of stories like driftwood hitting me if I’m not careful.

Then, as fast as it began, the book finishes and I give the now empty pages over to the next doctor, the next ship’s captain.

I clean my stethoscope, put my pens and my oars away, and strip off my dirty scrubs.

Naked, I pull on my new uniform and head home to the next raging river, where I’ll most certainly be carried away anew.

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