Issue 6 – Non-Fiction

I am living the dream that my five-year-old self couldn’t even fully imagine, yet some days, actually a lot of days, the dream and idea of being a doctor one day is the only thing that keeps me going. This is lonely. This is hard.

Before I began medical school one of my mentors told me, “You do not have to be the smartest to make it. You just have to persevere.” 

Most people know the word “adrenaline” better than the word “epinephrine,” but the substance is one and the same.

“Hello?” I said.
“Hey, guess what!” my wife shouted through the telephone.

She began to wheel me through the door and offer encouraging words of farewell when she suddenly stopped. “Wait a minute,” she said. “That’s not him.” She promptly spun me around and headed back into the building.