Hell For The Sophomores

It’s hard being the assistant professor over a group of thirty sophomores, all with hopes of becoming doctors. The ones who have the compassion to do the work don’t have the skills, and they’re failing. The ones who have the skills are the cocky ones who think they’re smarter than I am. Right. Today was exam day. CVCs and chest tubes with tracheotomies. I had a select few that as I passed by, I severed a few femoral arteries just to see if the students who are more than cocky could handle emergency situations and adequately administer a tourniquet, pack gauze, and tie a square knot, all without any bleeding through. Unfortunately, the cockiest of the cocky was able to handle it perfectly. He’s a doll, really. His idea of a retort is “You’re just the assistant professor. You can’t fail anyone!” Wanna make a bet, asshole? Fuck up just once, and I’ll have you out on your ass by the end of the day.

The students worked on live goats. Sleeping goats, but live all the same. I was surprised at how so many of them seemed collected. When I did this exam three years ago, I was freaking out. What if I punctured a lung? Ruptured something?

I may not enjoy wondering if I’m making my family’s life a living hell, but I don’t mind doing that to the sophomores. They deserve it. Especially the cocky ones.

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