The weight of expectation pressed down on me, a physical force as tangible as the stack of unread research papers on my desk. It wasn't just the pressure of my career; it was something deeper, a societal expectation woven into the very fabric of the medical profession. We, the healers, the caregivers, were supposed to be unflappable, endlessly empathetic, immune to the suffering we witnessed daily. We were expected to pour ourselves out for our patients, to carry their burdens without complaint, to remain unwavering sources of comfort and strength in the face of their pain. It was a noble ideal, undeniably, but one that left little room for our own vulnerabilities, our own exhaustion, our own human need for respite.
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