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)
With those words, I feel like Jason is speaking directly to me.
More than that, I feel his eyes trained on me, as if the emerald-green fire is burning two holes in my flesh.
My nipples are hard, and I don’t dare look down because my unlined bra is going to show them protruding through my T-shirt.
He’s right.
These are people.
Like I said to Tabitha in the beginning. What if we recognize someone?
She’s right, of course. The bodies will be unrecognizable.
“I see how excited some of you are, how ready you are to cut. But something you need to learn—I’m talking to all of you, not just our future surgeons—is that you can’t ever cut into a human being without thinking things through first.”
“But these are dead people,” Elijah says without raising his hand.
“Let me open up to you guys a bit.” Jason rakes his fingers through his gorgeous black hair. “This is my first time teaching anatomy lab.”
I can’t help my surprise. Jason seems so sure of himself, so exact in what he says, how he wants to make us feel about these cadavers who donated their bodies to science.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m telling you that. Some of you may be thinking, Oh great, a new guy. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Or some of you may be thinking, Great, a new guy. An easy A. Let me assure you that whatever you’re thinking about me, you don’t know the whole story. Let me tell you this…” He begins to pace across the front of the lab. “When I became an attending general surgeon years ago, I made many mistakes. All young surgeons have by the time they complete their residency.” He stops pacing and gazes out the window. “At some point, and sooner than you may expect, you will take a life. You won’t do it on purpose, of course, but one day, a mistake you make will take the life of another human being.” He returns his gaze to a now silent class. “You will have to live with that. You will have to learn from that. And you will have to move forward from that. You’ll carry that weight with you every time you walk into an operating room, every time you pick up a scalpel.”
A hush falls over the room.
“But remember,” Jason continues, softening his tone, “at the end of the day, you are human beings trying your best to save lives. It’s called the practice of medicine for a reason. You will never be perfect. Yes, there will be losses. But do not let them define you. Learn from them, and seek comfort in your victories.”
He looks around the room, his gaze landing on each student before moving on to the next.
“As for me,” Jason adds, “I still feel the weight of my mistakes. They’re a part of me now, as much as my training and my skill. But they made me better, and I hope they will make me a good teacher.” He turns away to reach for something on his desk. When he turns back, he’s holding a small box. “This,” he says, “is one of the most important lessons you will learn here.”
He opens the box for us to see. Inside sits a scalpel.
He holds it up to the light. “This isn’t just a scalpel. This is your connection to another person’s life. It’s a symbol of trust and responsibility, an instrument that you must wield with careful precision and utmost respect.”
He walks around the room, allowing each of us to catch a glimpse of the scalpel gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
I glance at Tabitha and then over my shoulder at Eli. They both look enthralled by Jason’s words and the object in his hand. As Jason walks by Eli’s desk, Eli reaches out, nearly touching it before thinking better of it and retracting his hand. Jason gives him a nod before moving on.
“Every incision you make,” Jason continues when he returns to the front of the room, “is a life changed. Every stitch you sew is a wound healed. And every mistake you make… Well, we’ve already talked about that.”
Jason places the scalpel back into its box and sets it onto his desk with a click. He turns back to face us. “But remember,” he says, “you’re not alone in this journey. You have each other to learn from, to support, and to challenge. You have your teachers, who are here to guide you, and we have the memory of every patient we’ve lost who has pushed us to be better.”
A beat of silence passes before he continues. “Tomorrow, we will begin our first dissection. It’ll be a test of your knowledge and your skills, but most importantly it will be a test of your character.” He pauses once more, his words hanging in the air. “I want each of you to take time tonight to reflect on why you chose this path. Remember that passion when things get tough. Remember the responsibility that comes with each decision you make.”