Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
I keep this in my collection of favourite poems, along with Invictus (William Henley) and You'll be a Man, my Son (Kipling). A very, very long time ago, I had a discussion with someone dear about it. Perhaps this is not what the author had intended it to be, but I interpreted this as a poem of regret, or at the very least, of doubt. Of having chosen a path, but yet wondering, perhaps even regretting, if the path chosen was the better of the two.
There are times when I catch myself wondering that. Of choices I made in the past. You catch yourself wondering if those choices were for the better. And better for whom? I sometimes ask myself. Me, or the patients who will forget about me 6 months later? Better for the family I never see, especially when they are in need of healthcare, or the patient's family now that they get to have their dear old mom around for another 5 years?
I suppose it's pointless wondering. One would never know. All one can do is be thankful for what he has been blessed with. But it's human nature to wonder, no? And unfortunately, it's human nature as well to never learn from their mistakes.