It wasn't like I hadn't lost a patient before that happens every so often. Usually it is never my fault. Actually it is never directly my fault, it just happens. That was until last night. I'm still not sure what exactly happened; I just know that there is no way that the patient could have just died that way. The cause of death was a blood clot. Ordinary enough except I had put him on blood thinners. The following morning I was being investigated. They claimed I wasn't to blame, but I couldn't shake the fake that because of my fuck up, this guy was dead.

I didn't even have the strength to go home so I ended up in the on-call room. I couldn't stop crying. The image of his cryig wife kept flashing in my head. It was my fault and I knew it. I didn't realize someone had come in until they were beside me holding me. They kept rocking me and telling me it was okay. I couldn't stop saying it was my fault. I fell asleep and when I woke up I found out who exactly it was that had been consoling me. It was Dr. Cox. He was holding me still asleep. I couldn't move without waking him. Once he was awake he sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. "How you feeling?" He asked breaking the awkwardness. "Better." He nods "Good. I'm glad. Now uh.." He says standing up "Don't worry. Never happened. Thank you though." He nods his head and walks out the door. Even though we wouldn't mention anything had happened, I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that when I needed someone the most, Perry showed up to be my person.