Iâ€™ve known and adored Becca since the late 1990â€™s. Sheâ€™s one of the warmest people I know, and one of the hardest-working, among many other excellent qualities. And John, her husband, is one of the most alive people Iâ€™ve ever met.
But Becca has one serious, nearly unforgivable, flaw. It is this:
Sheâ€™s probably smarter than I am.
Which, unfortunately, means that sheâ€™s definitely smarter than you are.
I know… I know…. This is tough to deal with. Weâ€™re all used to always being able to convince ourselves that weâ€™re the smartest person in the room. It took me three or four years to cope. Eventually, youâ€™ll be okay about it, too, as I am. Itâ€™s not really her fault, and she tries to slow down for the rest of us, but you can tell that itâ€™s sometimes a strain for her.
Sheâ€™s in her second year of med school at UTMB, and is doing quite well, thank you very much. Because itâ€™s a foregone conclusion, we already call her Doctor Becca, though she hates that .
Sheâ€™s given me permission to post a couple of pages from her journal, on the subject of cadavers. I find some of the advanced medical terms used by her and her colleagues to be a bit over my head, but Iâ€™m going to look the words up soon. The good thing is that it gives me even more faith in the professionalism and deep stores of arcane knowledge possessed by our doctors.
Iâ€™ve placed it below the cut because of the extreme graphic nature of her descriptions.
And now, without further ado, the Becca Papers â€“