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Dear Sidney,
It's always so quiet outside when the doctors are working. The real magic is happening inside, of course, but the peace they leave behind when they head into the O.R. is one that cannot be easily replicated.
I relish in that peace every chance I get, which isn't a lot, as I spend most emergencies walking to and from patients, helping where needed and praying for their recovery, as you know.
Today, or rather last night, which is when he started on this specific patient, I had the honor of watching Hawkeye perform open-heart massage on a young soldier. A boy, really.
I say honor, but it's a cruel sight. Blood everywhere, a chest laying wide open. Not for the faint of, uhm... Well, you get the point I'm trying to make.
The boy pulled through, thankfully. I could tell the event made impact on Hawkeye. On BJ too, might I add. I don't think I've seen him quite so worried before. After the boy was sent to post-op, they took a break together and when they got back, Hawkeye seemed to be doing much better. It's always nice to see how showing a bit of love and compassion can help the people around us.
I can't be sure, of course, but I suspect they're like us. I won't go into depth, but I have my reasons for thinking this. Firstly, they share a lot of time together and they're always close. You could almost say they're attached at the hip -- they never leave any room between them for Jesus, or, well, anything for that matter. That, and the not-so-subtle looks BJ shoots Hawkeye's way when he thinks no one's watching.
They really do remind me of us, in a way... But enough about that.
Now, I heard through the grapevine that you're currently on your way to Tokyo. Hopefully for some R&R or a congress of sorts, and not an emergency. I do hope you're alright.
Please drop by as soon as you can. The silence here, although appreciated, is starting to weigh on me and I miss hearing your voice.
Naturally, a reply is always appreciated, but don't worry if you can't send one before my next letter arrives. It's calm here now, so before, excuse my French, hell breaks loose again, I'm hoping to get out as many letters as I can write.
Yours forever,
Francis