The offer came in February. A hospital in another state, a trauma center that was expanding, looking for a new chief of trauma surgery. The salary was higher. The responsibilities were greater. The opportunity was real.
I sat with the offer for a week. I thought about what it would mean to leave. To start over. To build something new.
I thought about Priya. I thought about Marcus. I thought about the Barnes boy, who was back in school now, playing soccer, living his life because I'd been there to save him.
I thought about Elena. She'd moved to another city. She'd gotten a job. She'd sent me a letter in December, a handwritten note that said she was in therapy and she was trying to be better. She said she didn't expect forgiveness. She just wanted me to know that she was sorry.
I'd read
