You know what I don't think we talk about enough? Dr. Abbot the widow. Dr. Abbot the combat doctor with PTSD who is also a widow. Dr. Abbot who has repeatedly seen the worst life has to offer, who has taken to carrying disaster supplies around with him everywhere, who has seen young boys blown to pieces in the name of patriotism, who lost his own leg in the service of others, who has seen senseless death in the emergency room, who has lost his spouse and seen his Person die before their time. Dr. Abbot the widow and veteran who has gone to therapy, who has chosen preparation over fear, who writes letters to patient's family members, who has made himself kind and gentle when many let themselves become bitter and cruel. Dr. Abbot who is putting himself out there, who is flirting, and teaching, and mentoring, and caring, and healing, and loving, despite all the worst of life that he has borne witness to. Dr. Abbot who looked into the abyss, into the darkness and said no, life is still good is still worth saving. When he was talking Robby off the ledge he did not say they were soldiers, he did not say they were fighting, he did not use a violent metaphor for their work. No he said they were worker bees protecting the hive. He said they were a community in service of others, he made it about protection, and sacrifice, and care. Just, Dr. Abbot who gives thumbs up and corrects gently, and gives interns credit even for their crazy ideas, and still wears his wedding ring every day, and feels hopeless sometimes and goes up on the roof, but always comes back down to keep caring keep loving. Dr. Abbot man.
