 I remember listening and pronouncing the patient and then walking out after I offered my condolences to the family. And I didn't, again, have much of a connection with this patient. I didn't know too much about them. I'm just taking care of them this day in my life. I still broke down in tears. I don't understand exactly the reason why, but I think that act of pronouncing somebody and saying, your life is over. This is the time of your life that you passed away. Having that responsibility was honestly a little bit too much at that time. Now, since that event, I've actually, unfortunately, still had to pronounce patients multiple times since. And it's become a little bit more natural. I think I understand that the dying process is, again, part of our lives as physicians, as humans in general. And it never gets easy, because you always have to offer your condolences to a different family and a different patient every time. But it is a very humbling and growing experience, because one of the biggest things you'll learn in medicine is that you can't always fix things.