This story is dedicated to those soldiers who, even sacrificing much of themselves to save lives, are judged only by their uniform and even worse: they are seen as threats.
I hope you enjoy and reflect on the story.
Suitcases leaning reluctantly on the porch railings next to a huge note written in red markers alert me to my misfortune.
It is clear, it has happened again: they have thrown me out of the apartment.
They judge me because I protect them, because I take care of their health. Why are they still so indifferent even when the world asks for compression? I had not taken it into account, but now I will give up my apron because he is the culprit, although it sounds hard to believe, of giving me so much trouble.
The lunar cold and the dragging of suitcases accompany me in my nocturnal misadventures. Defeated and nowhere to sleep, and with him a busy day that comes to me at the hospital, I dare to laugh at my luck. I swore to protect their lives without interest, and now they pay me with the worst of coins. It is an irony because deep down in my gut I still think about giving my effort to save them. That's what my mother told me since I was little: she loves your neighbor. I was so comfortable with the good lessons from her that I decided to go the medical route, and despite the difficulties of the profession, I am still proud to spend every drop of sweat to keep her lungs safe.
Tired and exhausted, I lie down on the edge of a sidewalk. The quarantined city offers me a solitude never seen before. Some dog accompanies me, a poodle with battered curls. The licks of him wake me up. I stretch my back, and return the favor with a pat from behind the ears. To be honest, he is the first being that has come this close to me since the start of the pandemic. It does not judge if I am a doctor or if I can give you the death virus. He just beats his tail with the half sausage for a tail, and he huddles between my legs to keep me company, and I thank him with bitter tears.
We are two despised souls, two street people who are pointed out with hatred. I don't know what his story was, but I guess they dumped him like me too. To him only once, to me, more than 7 times. It is not my fault that I live in a third world country, with poor sanitary quality, but I do my best so that when caring for the sick with this devil virus, he cannot infect innocents. The pay does not compensate for the suffering, but it does not matter, the most fundamental thing is to save lives at risk of death.
I do not regret the profession I chose, but I suppose he could go for other branches. And now, curled up with the dog that desires my loneliness, my senses bring out the doubt within me. I think that, judging by the kind of living being, sometimes it is better to live in the universe of animal innocence, with that unwavering loyalty of animals like canines ...
And now I do think about it seriously ... Maybe I should have studied to become a veterinarian.