It’s one in the morning, and I’ve been on shift for twelve hours. I’m reaching my physical and emotional limit. I’ve had a night full of heart attacks, drunken injuries, and drug overdoses.

I’m just about to call it a night when the doors to the ER crash open. The medics rush in a stretcher, and all I can see is blood, a lot of it.

Dr. Phillips, one of the ER doctors, is running behind the team, shouting at various staff. “Multiple gunshot wounds!”

“Devaux!” he yells at me. “Let’s go, keep his heart going until we can get to the operating room! Let’s move!” he barks frantically. I hop onto the gurney and place a knee on either side of his body. The gurney is rushed through the hospital corridors, doors flying open in our wake as a team of doctors and nurses work frantically to keep the man alive.

I pump his chest rhythmically, trying to keep his heart from stopping, from giving up.

We burst into the OR I hop off the gurney and check his pulse. Nothing.

“He’s got no pulse!” I shout while the nurses hook him up to the monitors.

People move like clockwork, everyone knowing their place and operating like a well-oiled machine. Clothing is cut from the man’s lifeless, bloodied body as a defibrillator is wheeled next to him.

“Clear!” Dr. Phillips shouts, and holds the paddles on the patient’s chest. His back bows off the bed, his body contorting in shock.  

I stare at the flat green line on the monitor, marking his lifeless state.

“Clear!”

Again they shock him, and still nothing.

Come on, live. Just fight a little harder, I think to myself.

The doctor shocks him three more times to no avail.

“Time,” Dr. Phillips says.

I glance at the clock on the wall. “One twenty-two,” I call out.

He’s pronounced dead, and everything stops. The fight is over, and we lost. It never gets any easier. I’ve been a resident in the ER here for nine months now. I’ve seen death on a daily basis—it’s part of the job—and still, the fragility of human life always surprises me. One minute someone can be absolutely fine, living their life, working their job, having a family, and the next...it can all be over. Life itself can be so fleeting. You’re promised nothing. And that’s hard to swallow at times.

I became a doctor to save lives. And for every one that dies, there are ten more that are saved. It’s what makes this job so rewarding. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do in life. I decided to drop everything and leave my home in England to come here and study—to make a life for myself in America.

I am living my dream, but that doesn’t mean this is easy. I feel like every life lost takes a part of my soul with it. I worry that there will come a day when it no longer affects me, when it no longer hurts. I am terrified of not feeling this pain, of feeling nothing, because the day I can watch someone die and not feel a thing means I no longer have a soul. I’m terrified of becoming a monster.

I turn my back on the dead man. The frantic desperation that filled the room moments ago is now replaced by a resigned calm. Doctors and nurses remove equipment as a sheet is pulled over the man’s face. Pushing through the doors of the operating theatre, I head for the locker room. As my adrenalin drops, my legs start to feel like lead. I’m exhausted. When I reach the locker room, I take a minute to collect myself. That was a rough night.

I yank my bloodied scrubs off and throw them in the laundry bin before I pull on my jeans and a hoodie. I grab my handbag and check my phone, which has three missed calls from my sister. I swear she doesn’t understand the concept of twelve-hour shifts. I send her a quick text saying that I’ll call her in the morning. I’m almost out the hospital doors. I can practically hear little angels singing as I catch a glimpse of the outside world. I’m so close.

“Ria!”

At the sound of my name, I freeze. Damn it. I turn around and meet the smiling face of my boyfriend, Euan. He has that perfect smile coupled with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes.

Euan is a surgery resident. His father is the Chief of Surgery here at the University hospital. Let’s just say, he’s guaranteed a good job when he completes his residency. He is the typical American ideal of perfection. He’s everything a girl is told she should want in a man: driven, intelligent, attractive and kind to me. I’ve worked for years to get where I am, and, I guess, I want a certain life. Euan fulfills that vision.

That may not sound romantic, but I don’t believe in fairy tales. Euan may not set me on fire, but there are more important things in life than passion. Life is about goals, and I didn’t travel halfway around the world to find passion. I did it to be the best, to achieve my dreams, and create the life I’ve always wanted.

I smile wearily. He looks so perfectly put together- even after a twelve-hour shift he looks immaculate, and, well…I don’t. My hair is greasy and falling out of a messy bun. I have suitcases under my eyes right now, never mind bags, and I probably have various bodily fluids all over me. Nice.

Regardless of how disgusting I must look, he leans in and places a chaste kiss on my lips. “How was your shift?” he asks.

“Busy,” I reply in a clipped tone.

I really don’t want to talk right now. My bed is calling my name.

Luckily, he seems to get the message.

“Well, I’ll let you go, but we’re still on for tomorrow night, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” I smile and nod. “I’ll text you when I wake up.”

He quickly kisses my cheek again and winks before walking away.

At two in the morning, I finally get home. I jump in the shower and wash all the blood and death from my skin.

My job is hard, but the longer I do it the more I learn that I have to let go of each day before moving on to the next. This is my routine: to cleanse myself of the day’s events.

The scalding hot water soothes my aching muscles and clears my mind.

I’m starving, but the prospect of making any real food is just not appealing. I quickly eat a cereal bar in preparation for the twelve-hour hibernation I plan to now have. I’m on shift again tonight, and if Friday nights are bad, then Saturday nights are hell.

I’m unconscious as soon as my head hits the pillow.