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A Postcard From Purgatory
On a decade spent sacrificing happiness for success — and the lesson I learned.
I was in the audience as comedian Ron White fired off jokes I wouldn’t dare repeat in polite company. Standing beside his stool and beloved whiskey, he delivered the kind of punchlines that would earn me a fast track to HR. He was in top form, and the audience was in stitches. It was a good night—until it wasn’t.
One moment I was laughing, carefree, and the next, a rogue thought blindsided me.
I had a patient in the hospital, struggling with complications from Crohn’s disease. Their recovery would be long and difficult. And there I was, laughing while they suffered. Guilt crashed over me. How could I enjoy myself while someone under my care fought through pain?
The laughter that had rippled through me twisted into a knot of shame. Suddenly, Ron White wasn’t a hilarious comic but a sweaty man spouting nonsense. I sat through the rest of the show in silence, my hands folded in my lap as if in penance — offering up my joy on the altar of Asclepius, hoping some cosmic bargain might ease my patient’s suffering.
It wasn’t the first time I’d made that trade.
