No one really knows what they're getting into when they decide to go to medical school. Barely adults, asymptotically perfect, we all come climbing what will always be society's ladders. In search of the pinnacle of solace we write personal statements about the grandeur of healing, about understanding the intricacies of the human design, about tempting fate and playing God without admitting we are human too. What did you think in your first lecture when you realized all 170 people in the room didn't know the answer? What do you feel after your first test when the screen only told you you were 68% perfect? What did you do when the truth came crashing down that you were not in Kansas? I wish I could say our medical schools make more doctors than they make patients, but perhaps it takes being broken to ever truly learn that we are all just here to heal.
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PoetryBecause all that science just gets old after a while. Archives
October 2019
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