Feed the birds, tuppence a bag...

I am usually struck with the prevalence and profundity of depression, in all its forms. Sometimes I feel like these walking wounded are abnormally attracted to me, sensing in me some kinship or ability to walk alongside them on their descent to hell. I know that this was long-debated many moons ago about 'how tied up' in patients we get, but still... One of my preceptors once said that you end up with the practice you deserve. Some, I suppose, end up with the personalities, the anxious, the entitled, the various psychosomatisms, which would certainly not be my desire. I am not sure if the profoundly depressed are my particular little birds that I am to protect... Perhaps the ensuing folie a deux produces a vortex that helps shoot them out of the tornado, while I'm left spinning around in the dregs that are left...