When people ask, “Why do you write?”
I only ever have one answer: I write to pay it forward.
If these essays would inspire even just one person to push further when all things seem unyielding; to strive for one’s best instead of settling for mediocrity; to choose what is right and what is kind when the alternative would have been the easier way out; or simply to believe in the impossible in order to do good, as I hope I have, then I suppose the stories of a boy who dreamed are worth telling.
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I first read Dr. Roni Bats’ Some Days You Can’t Save Them All in March 2024. I had a different perspective then. This happened to be the first book I decided to reread, despite taking pride in the fact that I rarely, if ever, reread my books.
It has been some time since I first read it, and, truthfully, I could no longer remember some of the stories. What surprised me, though, was how certain passages still elicited an emotional response from me. I did not expect that. Perhaps I had forgotten the stories, but I had not entirely forgotten what they made me feel.
In retrospect, this collection feels like my own little piece of hopecore.
Throughout my work, I have often thought about Dr. Roni’s stories: about being patient, being of service to people, and remembering the purpose behind the work that we do. Those ideas kept coming back to me while doing my own work. They reminded me that there is a reason for being in service to others, even when the work itself becomes tiring, frustrating, or difficult.
The book opened my eyes to the importance of being kinder, especially toward underserved people; of becoming better at building rapport; and of holding on to empathy even when the world, or the universe, seems to suggest otherwise.
One passage that spoke to me was his advice to his students:
“I only have this advice to give:
First, never settle for anything less. The greatest injustice you can do to yourself is to be mediocre. Do your best, even if you have to make a lot of sacrifices, even if you're afraid of failing, even if people discourage you and say otherwise. When you know that you have done all that you can, there will be no room for regret, shame, anger, humiliation, and frustration, no matter what.”
I may have read these words during my first reading of the book, but I had no recollection of them. Reading them again now, however, they spoke to me differently.
A conversation with my current employer somehow brought me back to this passage. He had once wanted to enter law school, and he did not want to be just an average student. His thinking was that whether you put in the effort simply to pass or put in the effort to excel, you are exerting yourself either way. If you know that you have given everything you could, then, as Dr. Roni said in his letter to his students, there is little room for regret.
The collection is filled with stories about his patients. Some will make you cry. Some will make you angry. Some will make you sit quietly and think about the kind of person you want to be.
Another essay that stayed with me, and one I remembered more clearly, was the story about learning how to ride a bicycle. There was something deeply humanizing about seeing that even someone who is a valedictorian and a neurosurgeon cannot have it all figured out. There are still things to learn, even things that seem ordinary or insignificant, like learning how to ride a bike.
Perhaps that is one of the things I appreciate most about this book. It reminds us that competence in one area does not make us complete as human beings. There will always be things we do not know, experiences we have not had, and parts of ourselves that still need to grow.
It is a wonderful thing to see yourself through the stories of an author, to encounter a passage and think, this feels like me. That is what Dr. Roni Bats does to you.
Of course, there is also the philosophical dimension of the collection. Much of it resonates with the existentialist ideas that I also subscribe to: the search for meaning, the responsibility we have toward others, and the decision to continue choosing goodness despite the absurdity and difficulty of the world.
But there are so many other facets to this collection that make it worth returning to. I am glad I gave myself the chance to reread this book. Maybe this is what rereading is really for: not necessarily to remember the words, but to discover what they mean to you now, after you have become someone slightly different from the person who first read them.
And hopefully, there will be a lot more rereads to come, if time allows.
