On my way home from my morning run I realized I wasn't going blind. There, on a bench, an older woman dressed in pink was sucking on a dummy. Her dog was as impassive as its giant wannabe-baby owner. My first thought was: Poor woman. My second thought was: Do I smell bacon? And my third thought was: Help! This is one of the kinds of people I will help as a future doctor.
On my final sprint I told myself to calm down. I don't have to think of this now; they will certainly teach me how to interact with people like her in medical school. With a pulse of 190 BPM and panting like a dog with a hyperactivity disorder, I felt completely calm: No need to plan for tomorrow when you can't. Or that's what I told my imaginary girlfriend when she told me she was pregnant.