I enjoyed talking about medicine, asking obscure questions, and playing doctor with my dermatologist. Doctor Kline and I talked for hours about what kind of doctor I would become; he said neurologist. I said orthopaedist because I was sporty and I loved playing with the chicken wing’s tendons during our sixth-grade dissections. I decided that if I could handle the smell of my own burnt flesh, I could handle becoming a doctor, which remains my unwavering goal.
But I don’t want to be glib—having my warts removed was one of the most difficult, trying, painful, and, at times, embarrassing experiences of my life. I had to get out of the pool during swim meets because chlorine caused a burning sensation in my fingertips, sit out of volleyball practice, and skip important classes just to make it to my appointments on time. At times, it seemed as if I were a lab