Thank you, Jeff. A little more on the story of the man killed by the train. I read about his suicide in the paper before I left for work my first day at the hospital. I didn’t do the math. Later, as another orderly was conducting me through the hospital, he said: “Well, since you’re going to have to take care of the morgue, we might as well get this over with.”

We walked in. He said, “Let’s see who’s home,” and started opening the cooler doors. When he got to the one on the bottom right, he pulled out the tray, exposing what appeared to be a pile of bloody sheets. It was one sheet. When he pulled it back … well … you can imagine … maybe.

I vividly recall knowing, in that instant, I’d have to turn my brain off from the time I punched in every day to the time I punched out — or I’d never make it. And I really wondered how or why the people who employed me thought for a moment that I would or could make it.

Thank you for your note and your thoughtfulness.