Dr. Christina Yang,
First of all, thank you for being, in my opinion, the comically cynical life of Seattle Grace Hospital. I don't know another fictional doctor who would blatantly calls diseased orphans in need of medical attention "beautiful little train wrecks." Just so we're clear here, no other fellow or attending is allowed to name the interns after the dwarves from Snow White. Seriously, that's your job. Many may feel that the line between hubris and confidence is blurred for you, but you make pride and arrogance look like a precise art that only you can actually pull off.
Everyone associates your name with courage, fear and prestige. Performing surgery on your best friend's husband and remaining undoubtedly focused, while held at gunpoint by a (more than) disgruntled former client, was pretty impressive. Who am I kidding—it was freaking awesome.
Yang, you're a friend, when it's desired, and you're a commanding streak of terror when it's needed (congratulations, the interns at one point thought you were worse than "Medusa"). Meredith Grey is lucky you're her "person." Your audacity and quickness to taunt your colleagues amidst their misfortune are, admittedly, admirable. You aren't afraid to be right, even if you come off as the obnoxious kind of right. It seems as though we don't give ourselves enough credit, sometimes. We hold back even when we know our insight can push us along further. You, however, are the perfect representation of what can happen when we take the reigns, assert our knowledge and even tell people to 'sit back and shut up' a few times along the way.
That being said, you have literally no qualms about making open demands in a room full of (soon to be irritated) people—especially when it comes to demanding food. You are shameless in the best ways possible and you know it!
Dr. Yang, even during your most fragile states, you were admirable, though I honestly wanted to punch you in the face when your weakness was really just a condition that you turned into a problem. But that's because I've become so accustomed to seeing you "buck up" and handle extraneous situations like a boss. I found myself yelling at you through my computer screen, telling you to get back up because you never back down (yes, I was aware that you couldn't actually hear me). But let's go back to some of that PTSD. Heaven knows you and your colleagues have had enough crappy experiences to last a lifetime and back—for like a hundred people! you had an abortion; survived a plane crash that killed two of your colleagues and left the rest of you wandering in the woods with only your own urine to drink; you watched your then Chief of Surgery get shot—afterward you removed that bullet in the face of a heated confrontation; you saw a fellow doctor, and friend, stand in the operating room and collapse to his timely death in the midst of performing surgery on a patient. Without a doubt, you've endured much more and came back stronger every time.
You taught us how to not give a crap about anyone else's crap. You taught us how to dance it out and hope for the best. You even taught us that performing an endocardial stripping of the left ventricle can be loads of unprecedented fun! You better stay you: hilarious; brilliant; diligent; brutally honest. That's an order.
