I was volunteering in the nursing home for two weeks at the beginning of the year. But I remember one day being extremely special. When I first met Juanita she was watching television with some of the other residents.

One day she complained about a back ache but we thought some fresh air would do her well. So I took her to the balcony. A nurse began to examine her and Juanita asked: "Am I gonna die?"

"No, you are fine," the nurse replied. "See how you just got discharged."

The nurse left and Juanita turned her face to the sun. She began telling me about her nicknames. And then she turned to look at me in a more serious tone.

"I am scared. What if I do not make it to my birthday?"

"You will, I promise" I replied with a smile. "You are already getting so much better."

She looked up at the sky. "I wish I was a bird and I could fly above all of this. I could fly far away. I don't belong here."

I nodded as she went on. "I used to live in an apartment. Then I got the flu. I was supposed to go to the tea party you volunteered at but instead, I went to the ICU."

She was silent for a while. To break it I asked, "What did you like to do?"

"Hmmm?"

"Hobbies? Music, art, cooking..."

"Music! I loved to play the piano. Have you heard of Chopin? I would give anything to hear him again..."

"I will be back in two minutes. Get ready to hear some Chopin."

When I came back with my phone, she was struggling with her water bottle. It had fallen over and she was trying to pick it up. I helped her and assumed my seat. "How is your back?"

"Talking to you helped," she said as her face was warming in the sun.

I smiled real bright and began to type in Chopin. As soon as the video began to play, she laughed and began swaying her head. "I still recognize him! Do you see that?"

I nodded imagining her playing the piano in her apartment, without the wheelchair, without the oxygen tank. We sat listening to him for a while.

"How did you get him to play?"

"It is Youtube, I will teach you tomorrow. You just type in his name. Then, you can listen to anything."

"My daughter bought me a smartphone. But I do not really know how to use it," she laughed.

"I will teach you. I have to help my mum all the time."

We went on talking about our families, the increased drug use in Colorado and how beautiful the day was.

"They are making chocolate strawberries today. Would you like to go?" I asked.

"I was not planning on it but you will be there with me, right?"

"Of course," I smiled and wheeled her over to where the chef is melting chocolate. After the demonstration, Juanita was smiling. We left and I rolled her back to the television.

"Are you sure you have to go?" She asked.

"Yes, but I will be back tomorrow. I promise! We can do whatever you want all day."

She looked worried but agrees. "I promise," I responded again.

That day was Valentines Day. Instead of talking about myself, I told Joe, my friend, all about Juanita and her nickname, the piano, and the strawberries. We even listened to Chopin.

The next day arrived and I went back. When I went to her room, she was hunched over with a bunch of nurses. She could not breathe properly. I hurried out of the room as to not overwhelm her. This was not supposed to happen. I tried to ask the nurses and the staff about her condition. At the end of the day, I asked again.

"It is not a good thing when all the nurses are there. She will probably go within the day or during the night." The nurse responded.

I run to her room and her daughter is there. She looked up.

"I just wanted to see if she needed anything," I asked.

"No, she... she doesn't." The daughter gazed sadly at her mum.

I looked over to Juanita and she had the oxygen on her. Her clothes were changed into hospital gowns. I did not know what to say or do so I just walked out. I drove back to school so I could find Joe.

"What is going on?" He asked. Although I'm sure he knew by the look on my face.

I told him everything with tears in my eyes. "I had no idea. This was not supposed to happen."

"I am so sorry."

The next morning I went and the nurses told me she passed away earlier that day. I texted Joe who was waiting to see what happened. Juanita had touched so many of our lives. She was dearly missed by her family and nurses. She taught me the importance of what it means to work in medicine. Typically on Valentine's day, I spend the day planning things for myself. But this year, Joe and I spent it celebrating Juanita. Typically, we got so wrapped up in talking about ourselves and our present petty issues. But instead we thought about someone else and the fact that each one of these people in the nursing home had brilliant beautiful lives. We just needed to be there to listen. The nurses called me and said she could not stop talking about me. She told everyone about how she got to tell the "tall beautiful young lady" about her life.

I realize that being a doctor does not mean saving every single life. It is about giving patients the care and support they deserve. It is about allowing light to enter your heart and knowing that you are going to try and make someone's last day on this beautiful earth memorable.

I will always remember Juanita because she changed my perspective of what kind of doctor I want to be. More importantly, she taught me why a girl, so in love with English class, has a place in this math and science world. Literature acknowledges the human experience and so do good doctors. Doctors see the humanity even in the most dehumanizing diseases.