See, in trauma, life-changing and often devastating injuries come as a complete shock to both patients and their families. Some days it's harder to watch than others and when I leave work, I carry a profound heaviness with me. Last week I came home and sprawled out on my front lawn in bare feet and scrubs and stared at the sky. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't feel like crying. I didn't feel like doing anything. I just stared at the sky. And when I was sufficiently decompressed, I got up and got back to life. Because life is the reason that I do what I do.
Because for everyone who doesn't make it, there's someone that does. For every patient who suffers brain death, others are saved by organ donation. For every spinal cord injury, there is someone who walks away miraculously uninjured.
And I just have to believe that there is more to all of this than just the luck of the draw. I have to believe that there is a God in Heaven who watches it all, who sees our tears falling, and has empathy for us in a way we can't comprehend. I have to believe it because when I go to work, I feel it. I feel God's love for his children. We are not just wandering meaninglessly through a dark life without purpose or hope. There is great purpose to our lives, and even to our suffering.
And though I don't understand it now, I know that someday, somehow, it will all be made right. Somehow Christ's atonement, will bring wholeness to those who have lost. Every sorrow will be recompensed and every tear will be wiped clean. And for now, that's enough to keep me going.