Growing up, I was discouraged from becoming a doctor; I was too emotional. My mother, a geriatrician, worried about my attachment to patients and the volatility of inpatient medicine. To some degree, I understood her concerns; I’m tearful during goodbyes and inconsolable at funerals. Yet my interest in medicine persisted, and I began medical school. In my third-year, I experienced the innumerable emotions associated with witnessing patients’ deaths. I was ...

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