I can't fix it.

My liver patient consumes all the blood products in the hospital.
My meningitis patient begins to smile to his wife's chatter.
My ephysema patient begins to grasp that she probably won't get a lung transplant.

I spend half my day working and the other half recovering from work.

I come home.

"Emotion, which is suffering, ceases to be suffering as soon as we form a clear and precise picture of it." Spinoza