On a quiet Saturday morning in May, a bomb went off just steps from where I perform surgery every week. It didn’t happen in some distant city. It happened here, at the intersection of Highway 111 and Las Palmas, right across the street from our surgical center. The target was a fertility clinic. One person was killed; three others were injured.

What was once a space for hope and healing became a site of violence. Although our clinic was not the target, we felt the impact—both physically and emotionally.

On Sunday morning, I received a call from Ian Mullings, the administrator at the nearby El Mirador Surgery Center, informing me that due to the bombing, Monday’s surgeries needed to be postponed. Out of an abundance of caution, we paused our operations, not because the damage was extensive, but because our patients and staff deserve to walk into a space that feels calm, secure and fully prepared to facilitate healing.

As a cataract surgeon, I’m used to precision and preparation. But no amount of planning can shield a medical practice from the emotional toll of something like this. The truth is, we needed time, not just to inspect the facility, but to process the gravity of what had occurred.

It’s deeply unsettling to realize how quickly a place dedicated to care can become unsafe. That parking lot, where our patients normally arrive early in the morning, was filled with police tape, news vans and grief. The same building I pass by every week was now a crime scene. It could have been any one of us. And that fact lingers.

What has stayed with me the most, isn’t only the tragedy—it’s the response. Colleagues checking in; patients calling to make sure we’re okay. The Coachella Valley is a small, tight-knit community, and when one part of it is shaken, we all feel it.

As a surgeon, I spend my days restoring sight. But there are some things you don’t need perfect vision to see clearly: violence has no place in our community. Not against women. Not against health care providers. Not here.

And while the headlines will eventually fade, our resolve will not. We returned to surgery the following week, and we’ll keep doing what we’ve always done—taking care of people.

But this moment won’t pass unnoticed. It’s a reminder of how fragile life is, and how important it is to keep showing up for each other, even when the cameras leave.

Dr. Keith Tokuhara is a board-certified ophthalmologist and cataract surgeon at Desert Vision Center in Rancho Mirage specializing in ethical, patient-first eye care. He can be reached at (760) 340.4700.