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So, I was researching medical school and residency and the like last night and found that dear Caleb is pretty young for a surgeon at 30.  Of course, he’s brilliant, driven, and doesn’t have to worry about student loans considering his family, so that helps.  Not to mention that Aylesford Memorial is a small hospital, funded in part by the Everett and Jamieson families, with both Charles Everett and Booker Jamieson sitting on the board.  That’s not to say he doesn’t work hard, we all know he does, but…  Wait, I’m rambling now.

**Please ignore the rambling of the author**

Anyhow, it’s Wednesday, and I thought I’d give you a snippet.

He always prayed he would be taking care of minor accidents and not literally saving lives, but some days were better than others. He loved what he did, but he had seen things he never wanted to see again, repaired the aftermath of men, of parents, who didn’t deserve their women and children, and lost patients he tried everything to save. He may only be thirty, but he felt much older most of the time.

“I won’t be hard to find if I’m needed,” he stated unnecessarily. If something major occurred, he knew they’d call him, no matter where he was, what he was doing, or whether or not he had just come off a double shift. Sometimes working in a small town hospital was grating.