A Man

I wonder what his story was.

What had those tired eyes behind the thick glass that framed his face witnessed?
How many times had he listened to the same story?

His wrinkles made his face strangely more beautiful. Maybe it was because of the stories they told...each one of the lines representing a parcel of wisdom that he has gained throughout the years. His left finger was encompassed by a gold band. How does this work effect a family life?

As he rubbed his tired hand over his fatigued face I could tell he was worn. He needed a break. How do you care for someone whose job is to care for everyone else?

When people are completely selfish, destructive, unhealthy, and aren't willing to change, is it acceptable to only pretend you care in this profession? Yet, his eyes twinkled in a way that expressed sincere sympathy and a slight form of empathy. How many times he must ask the same questions. How many patients does he see on a daily basis and of that number, how many of them offer a simple thanks when their visit is over?

Tolerance, patience, perseverance, kindness, gentleness.
How he possesses these qualities?

How many lives he has saved.