I'm wearing rose quartz around my neck. My heart feels so heavy. I've been hit so hard. We lost two patients this week. One of them could have been saved. One of them went into shock right in front of me. I thought she was having an allergy to the oral contrast I had given her. Oh, god, I killed her, I kept thinking. "Wake up, please just wake up," I kept begging through my round of chest compressions. After 40 minutes we stopped resuscitating. Then the family came. I didn't know what to say. "I'm so sorry," I told the woman's only daughter. I asked if she needed anything, brought her a box of tissues, and basically did not know what to do with myself. And then, I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed.

I am needing to honor these losses, these women who passed, the knocks I'm being hit with. Here's to the honor of the journey bestowed upon me.