The Healer

On my short drive home from work this morning, less than 2 hours after I wheeled a young patient of mine down to the morgue, I nearly squashed a few squirrels in the road with my front tires. I was distracted, I guess, by the smell of death that seemed to be permanently seared into my nostrils. But no, it wasn't permanent. When I peered over Gus's crib rail and received that big gummy morning grin of his, I forgot about cold morgues. Then later, after I had bathed away all the hospital grime and sadness, I buried my nose in his sweet chubby folds and just inhaled. Deeply.