Today was a difficult day at the hospital. I've been having a tough time caring about this medicine sub-internship, which means that my write-ups and presentations and everything else have been pretty terrible. And it was a Sunday.

I've learned to deal with missing church on Sundays. It comes with the territory, and it will only get worse next year. But it's not yet next year.

As we were rounding on our patients, it seemed like all of them had their TVs turned to one of many brightly-dressed preachers, expounding on the kingdom of heaven. I don't know how I would feel if I was one of these veterans, sitting in a hospital with cancer or heart failure, wondering just how deep the treasure was hidden. I couldn't really listen, of course, not when I'm supposed to be paying attention to the sick. They're the ones who need a doctor. And I? I simply need healing.

As I was walking down the hallway, I heard singing. It was a quiet rumble of voices coming from the conference room - a disparate group sitting in desk-chairs, holding sheets of lyrics, and testifying. I looked over as I walked by and I saw amazing and I knew grace.

Overheard at Barnes:

"Her name was Andie and my name is Ally but they were calling her Dee and I was like isn't it A like my name Andie Ally but then I realized An-Dee hahaha."

And I knew exactly what she was talking about. And I felt no shame. The truth will set you free - from fat pants to Apple Bottom Jeans.

I certified my rank order list today. It gets locked on Wednesday. In a month, I'll find my future home. A little bird assured me that, at the very least, I won't find myself on the streets, on the corner of Milwaukee and Sanders. And in five years or so, I may become an amazing little surgeon.

Little?

I promise I won't cry.

Text messages can be meaningful and sincere.

Myung: My kid says if you're thirty and not married, then you're gay.

Me: I guess I am pretty happy.

Myung: In three years, we might have to redefine our relationship.

As you can see.

P.S. This will be my humble piano at your front door. Thank you for everything.

She was the spitting image of you. Yes, you told me about it, and yes, I think she actually looks a bit like you, but that wasn't it. She was strong and irreverent, practical and whimsical, very good at what she does and happy, in the end. And not that your marriage should be anything like hers, but I hope that you will be happy too.

I was thinking about when we finally met and you were disappointed because you were expecting funnier, maybe deeper, definitely more. And it was strange for me, not because we'd never met before, but because you had recently gotten some very good news.

I hope to God that it isn't merely jealously. I'm not so proud to think that I'm completely above it, but it's more than that. It's like I'm losing a friend. I'm losing you and I'm losing you. And the latter is much more tragic to me.

That, I think, is the heart of the issue. She was happy in the end, and I was happy for her, but she wasn't the same. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that's how it should be. No, no maybe. That's how it is.

So I said goodbye to you, but I'll always remember the you before we ever met.