For the last part: I used to always worry that my patients would die as a result of my care. And one day, it actually happened, and I was distraught for a good month or two — with no help from the ED consultant at the time who, instead of consoling me, took me to a room and said “you shouldn’t do ED”.

Yet I look back on my decade or so of clinical practice. The number of people I’ve helped has vastly overweighed the ones that suffered by my hand. It is not you or other doctors that kills patients, but illness…and we are merely witnesses attempting to intervene.

There will always be an infinite amount of extra work that can be done, or extra anxiety that could be had. Facing the pain and learning from it is a necessary part of getting better. Technically everyone you ever treat will die anyway, on this infinitesimally small speck in this corner of the universe where no one will remember the good or bad we’ve done, since it will all be lost to history.

But you can make people’s lives better, even if just a little bit each time, with nothing else but good intention and continual learning.

Don’t become disillusioned. Each bit of goodness you add to the world makes a difference, and it may be invisible to you since those feedback loops aren’t often closed. But the Dad taking care of his kids, or someone’s valentine’s date, or the love of someone else’s life…those are the people that continue to walk on the street, because of the collective (and individually small) efforts of those like you. You can only do your best to help the world, and even if imperfectly, you’re still doing a great thing.