I was twenty-nine years old when the world changed.
It began as any other morning. Tapping the snooze once too often, taking extra long in the shower, changing my mind about what to wear to work, hitting every red light between home and the hospital. I should know better.
My first day as a fully fledged physician, I walked into the ER for my surgical rotation. I’m not one of the all-stars, I’m a general surgeon. You won’t see me at the helm of a fabulous neurosurgery, or slicing my way through a valve replacement. Gall bladders, hernia repairs, and the like, that’s my line. I don’t care. I live to cut.
I want to say that the sun was shining, the birds singing, a warm wind rustling the tree branches. The truth is, it was cloudy and overcast. A typical winter day in Florida. Which meant it was about…
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