Perspectives
A Breathtaking Introduction to Medical School
Abstract
Barely able to move or breathe, I clenched my teeth as a needle punctured my chest and my skin crawled as a guidewire advanced. The resident calmly dilated the incision between my ribs. A chest tube slid into my pleural space with a rush of air. I calmly whispered, “I can breathe,” as my breath returned. The day before my pneumothorax, I attended the first day of medical school orientation brimming with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Afterward, my roommate and I sought to relieve stress at the gym by lifting weights. I will never forget that fateful “pop” in my chest while lifting. I instinctively drew a clutched fist against my ribs. “Did I pull a muscle?” I wondered. Leaning over, I felt a bubble brush the borders of my chest, shifting my right lung.This content is limited to qualifying members.
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