The Price of Caring – And How POCUS Helps Me Carry It

Scanning this tiny frenchie puppy with history of vomiting and regurgitation for signs of aspiration pneumonia.

Reflections on uncertainty, responsibility, and clinical decision-making

Here’s the truth: not every patient makes it, and it hurts when they don’t. The grief cuts deeper when we wonder if we missed something, or could have changed the outcome. Death is inevitable — we know that when we choose this profession — but what’s hard to bear is the fear that it was our fault.

Caring is a double-edged sword. The same hands that heal are capable of missing something, making the wrong call, or in the worst moments, causing harm despite the best intentions. That’s the price of caring — the emotional tax attached to trying.

And still, we show up. We roll up our sleeves. We take on the risk, over and over, because delaying death — even briefly — matters. Offering comfort matters. Trying matters. We know the weight of loss because we’ve lived it, and that’s exactly why we keep going.

POCUS has shifted the ground under my feet. It increases diagnostic confidence by around 89%. It doesn’t erase uncertainty. It doesn’t prevent mistakes — it has its own potential for false diagnoses and must be used with training and caution. But in my hands, it has made my practice better. It gives me immediate insights, clearer direction, and fewer nights lying awake wondering if I missed something obvious.

It doesn’t save every patient. Nothing does. But it has changed how I work, how I think, and how I cope with the weight of caring.