I thought marrying my dying patient was a kindness. After her funeral, her sister handed me a box with my name on it. Before I finished reading, I was forced to defend myself against an accusation that could end my career.
I was 30, with a medical degree, a white coat, and loan payments that still made my stomach tighten.
Becoming a doctor was all I'd ever wanted.
My parents couldn't help much with tuition, so I'd studied all week and worked weekends.
By the time I met Alicia, I thought the hardest part was behind me.
Becoming a doctor was all I'd ever wanted.
She was 18 and the funniest person on the oncology floor.
Even exhausted from treatment, she could make a nurse laugh while changing her bedding.
"Doctor Lucas, you know smiling is free, right?"
I tried to keep a serious face.
She waited until I lost.
She was 18
