Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Why wouldn’t I?” I shrug my shoulders. “Psychiatry is a medical profession. I happen to think the link between physical health and mental and emotional health is very important.”
“Okay, okay… Simmer down.” She punches me gently on my upper arm. “If you want to get through med school, though, you’re going to have to pass anatomy lab. We’re going to be doing this for four years, and probably more during internship and residency. Well, at least during internship for you. If you stick with psychiatry, that’s where your residency will be.”
“Thank God,” I say under my breath.
Then Tabitha grabs my arm. “Fuck,” she says. “Check out our instructor.”
I look to the front of the room, where a tall man is walking in.
Make that a really tall man, with gorgeous dark-brown hair, black stubble on his sculpted jawline, and the most piercing emerald-green eyes I’ve ever seen.
Oh my God.
He may just be the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I grew up in a family of famously handsome men.
“Who is that?” I hear another student whisper.
Every woman in the room is staring at him, and quite a few of the men as well. And I don’t think they’re all gay. He’s just that good-looking.
“Good morning,” he says. “I’m Dr. Jason Lansing, and I’ll be your instructor for this semester’s anatomy lab. Please call me Jason.” He gives a dramatic scowl. “Dr. Lansing makes me feel about a hundred years old.”
Laughter echoes throughout the lab. I simply gulp and try not to stare at my professor’s magnificence.
He looks around the room. “You’ll get to meet your cadavers soon. First, some preliminaries.” He paces up and down between our tables. “You’re very lucky to have only two students per cadaver. In normal years, there are four per cadaver, and even sometimes six. The school received a hefty donation this year, so we’re able to do two per cadaver.”
Hefty donation.
From my mother and father, of course. But no one needs to know that, though I’m sure they all suspect.
He looks up and down the lab, pausing on each individual face. “You may be feeling a mixture of anticipation, excitement, maybe even a bit of nervousness. That’s all normal. Today, and over the next few months, you’ll begin a journey of understanding the human body in ways that can only be taught here.”
He pauses a moment. Is he going to ask if we have questions? He doesn’t. He simply clears his throat and continues.
He gestures to the sheet-covered cadavers. “These are not just bodies. They are people who made the thoughtful decision to donate themselves so that you could learn. They’ve given you one final gift—one of knowledge. Every time you approach these tables, remember that you’re not just studying anatomy. You’re honoring a life.”
Another pause.
What’s with all the pausing?
“Over the course of this semester, we’ll be covering different regions of the body, moving from the thorax to the limbs, and eventually to more delicate areas. Each lab will build on the last to give you a complete view of how interconnected our bodies truly are. For many of you, this will be the most hands-on learning you’ve ever experienced. It will be challenging and at times uncomfortable, but also incredibly rewarding.”
He takes a few steps closer to the nearest table—which happens to be Tabitha’s and mine—and places a hand on the edge.
He’s so close.
So close that I can smell his scent over the chemical aromas of the lab.
He smells like the outdoors—crisp pine and the faint smokiness of a fire that’s long since burned out. It’s rugged and raw, as if he’s part of the wilderness itself, untamed and irresistible.
“Remember, this is a privilege, and we are here to learn—not only from books but also from these individuals. They teach us the complexities of human life, health, and disease in a way no lecture can. Each scar, each variation you’ll see, tells a story.”
A few students exchange glances.
“Let’s also be mindful of each other,” Dr. Lansing adds. “Some of you may feel overwhelmed today or in the coming weeks, and that’s perfectly okay. We’re in this together, and I encourage you to support each other, to ask questions, and to take breaks when needed. This lab is a safe place for learning and growth.”
With those last words, he’s talking directly to me. At least I feel like he is. I seem to be the only apprehensive person in the room.
“Before we begin,” he says, “I want to go around the room and have each of you introduce yourselves. You’ve been in school together for a few months now, and if you’re like most new medical students, you’ve been spending all your free time hitting the books, and you haven’t gotten to know each other.” He crosses his arms. “But medicine is a collaborative practice. For the rest of your careers, you’ll be working with other physicians and depending on them as they will depend on you. We’ll start with you two.” He meets my gaze, his hand still resting on Tabitha’s and my table.