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It seems like so long ago.

There are so many ways to answer one question. I've always been interested in seeing what kinds of responses I get from people. Different people. Different answers. One question.

"Why medicine?"

"It's a calling," Martha told me. "It's what I'm supposed to do."
"I don't know." Dr. Harkins said. "Seemed like a good idea."
"Because I like science," Dr. Ravula said. "I guess."
"Why not?" Jonathan said. "It's a good job. It's fun."
"I thought I could make a difference." Jerry said. "I know better now."
"I wanted to be a firefighter," Heather said. "But this is more fun."
"I don't know," Chris said. "Something to do."

"I can't imagine doing anything else." They said.

I don't have any clinicals left. I wish I did. I want to go back to the hospital. I want to go back to the emergency department. I want to suction disgusting mucous out of mouths and set up monitors. I want to take vitals and talk to patients. I want to give EKG printouts to doctors and laugh behind the nurse's station. I want to write up patient reports and cut things with my shears.

I want to help.

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