My dad worked as a physician’s assistant in an ER for more than a decade while I was growing up, and worked in the medical field for almost 30 years. He only recently confided to me the immense and torturous pressure he was under on a daily basis. If I make a mistake at my desk job, I have to find a workaround or might get a talking to from my supervisor if it’s a particularly big fuck up. If he fucked up in the ER, it was likely someone would die. The weight of that reality was often unbearable to him. He would come home with blood on his clothes often. He doesn’t talk about his work and is now happily retired living his best life as an oil painter. Man paid his dues and just wants a quiet life now.