“Doc, I’ve seen enough doctors. I only trust you. I want you to do my knee replacement and fix my heart.”

I heard the conviction in his voice when I heard these words from this patient. Sitting across from me was a 76-year-old army veteran I had cared for over two decades. He had seen multiple specialists, endured countless consultations, and, in the end, he wanted me, the physician who had walked beside him through years of struggle, to carry him through this next chapter.

That was a seminal moment in my career as a doctor. That’s when I realized that beyond technical expertise, beyond procedures and prescriptions, what patients seek most is trust. But trust is not built on a single visit, but over years of shared battles, quiet victories, and honest conversations.

He was a decorated veteran, and he carried wounds that were not visible from the outside. In our conversations, I often noticed that he would flinch slightly at the sound of a slamming door or that his eyes would dart around the room as if constantly assessing the surroundings for potential threats. These small and involuntary reactions hinted at the burden he carried: post-traumatic stress disorder. The flashbacks, nightmares, and quiet torment of memories he rarely spoke about were a constant presence in his life.

The U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs estimates that about 7 percent of veterans will experience PTSD at some point in their lives, with rates as high as 11-20 percent among those who served in Iraq and Afghanistan. Despite these statistics, he carried these burdens quietly and with dignity. He battled his demons daily to build a productive life, showing up for his family, his community, and even caring for his own health.

Over the years, our relationship evolved beyond physician and patient. He became a fixture in my practice, a reminder of the long arc of care and the privilege of continuity. His resilience was not loud or dramatic; it was steady, humble, and deeply human.

This winter, he passed away. His death was not unexpected, but the grief for many, including myself, was profound. Physicians are trained to compartmentalize, to maintain professional distance, yet the truth is that long-term patients become part of our lives. Their absence leaves a void.

The holidays amplify this sense of loss. While marketed as a season of joy, the reality is more complex. Surveys show that 88 percent of Americans report stress during the holiday season, citing financial strain, loneliness, or family conflict. A 2024 poll found that 47 percent of adults struggle with grief or missing loved ones during the holidays.

Physicians are not immune. We carry our own losses while caring for patients who may be silently battling depression, anxiety, or trauma. The emotional toll is cumulative, and without acknowledgment, it can erode our well-being over the long term.

But medicine is not only about loss. It is also about the small victories that sustain us. For this patient, victories were measured in quiet milestones: attending his granddaughter’s graduation, managing his PTSD without succumbing to despair, and showing up for his appointments even when the weight of memory was heavy.

In clinical practice, these moments matter. They remind us that success is not always defined by a cure, but by quality of life, dignity, and connection. For physicians, celebrating these victories is essential to counterbalance the grief we inevitably face.

For the medical community, the lessons from this patient’s journey are important. Continuity of care is not simply a logistical convenience; it is the foundation of trust, allowing us to see patients as whole people rather than fragmented diagnoses. In medicine, we must also acknowledge the grief that accompanies loss, recognizing that, when unaddressed and suppressed, sorrow contributes to burnout and isolation among physicians. At the same time, awareness of mental health challenges, particularly during the holiday season when depression and stress peak, is essential both for our patients and ourselves. And finally, we must remember to celebrate the quiet victories, the moments of resilience, dignity, and connection that remind us why we chose this profession. Taken together, these lessons call us to practice medicine not only with skill but also with humanity.

The story of my patient, the veteran who lived with PTSD yet built a meaningful life, reminds me that medicine is as much about humanity as it is about science. His passing is a personal loss, but his legacy is one of courage, perseverance, and unassuming victory.

As physicians, we must honor both the grief and the triumphs of our work. In doing so, we sustain ourselves and reaffirm the profound privilege of walking alongside patients through the full spectrum of life and death.

Let us acknowledge our grief openly, not as weakness but as part of the human cost of caring. Let us create spaces, whether in team meetings, mentorship, or informal conversations, where we can share the emotional weight of medicine. And let us remember to celebrate the simple victories, the moments of trust and resilience, that make this profession not only bearable but profoundly meaningful. In this season, when many silently struggle with loss and depression, may we recommit ourselves to compassion: for our patients, for our colleagues, and for ourselves.

Francisco M. Torres is an interventional physiatrist specializing in diagnosing and treating patients with spine-related pain syndromes. He is certified by the American Board of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation and the American Board of Pain Medicine and can be reached at Florida Spine Institute and Wellness. 

Dr. Torres was born in Spain and grew up in Puerto Rico. He graduated from the University of Puerto Rico School of Medicine. Dr. Torres performed his physical medicine and rehabilitation residency at the Veterans Administration Hospital in San Juan before completing a musculoskeletal fellowship at Louisiana State University Medical Center in New Orleans. He served three years as a clinical instructor of medicine and assistant professor at LSU before joining Florida Spine Institute in Clearwater, Florida, where he is the medical director of the Wellness Program.

Dr. Torres is an interventional physiatrist specializing in diagnosing and treating patients with spine-related pain syndromes. He is certified by the American Board of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation and the American Board of Pain Medicine. He is a prolific writer and primarily interested in preventative medicine. He works with all of his patients to promote overall wellness.