As the summer countdown began, there was both a sense of thrill — excitement to learn from and be around someone I admired — and a weight of expectation, both from myself and from those I’d be working with. These emotions are familiar to most embarking on the journey of medicine, where the promise of growth comes hand in hand with the pressure to rise to the occasion. I honestly hoped it would be filled with the kind of moments you can’t get from books alone, the kind you’d tell the grandkids about. Little did I know, it would be that and so much more.
What I thought would be a summer immersed solely in the science turned into an unforgettable bench-to-bedside journey, bridging the OR and the lab. One memory I return to often is the first time I was standing in front of a fibula free flap being procured for a maxilla englufed by cancer. As the initial cuts were made, I couldn’t help but tilt my head back and forth, blinding myself as the bright OR lights reflected off the glistening fascia. I hoped no one noticed, or else they might have wondered what was going on with me. This was nothing like anatomy lab where everything was preserved and muted, set against the background of pungent formaldehyde. Here, every structure was alive, and every movement had purpose, solidified by the smoke from the Bovie carrying the smell of burning flesh into the ether. Every experienced spread of the Scanlon, every purposefully ligated vessel, and every nerve sacrificed overrode the whispers of uncertainty while reflecting the harmony between art and science. What a profound privilege it is to work on the human body in real time.
The tumor immunology lab, though quieter, offered its own rewards. I felt it to be a space for reflection and deep introspection, where the implications of what was seen in the OR could be understood and expanded upon. There was pure excitement in reducing number-assigned tumors to mere fragments, preparing them for the creation of cell lines. It was often easy to forget that these same tumors in the OR were intertwined with the very essence of a patient’s life. What made being in the lab special was the beauty in some days being filled with discussion on the stochasticity of science, while others were more about the rawness of life as we experience it. It was this balance that made being here such an enriching environment, one where both the cells and us humans cultivating them could thrive.
From the blue drapes that mosaicked over a patient to the whooshing of the glass shield within the confines of a culture hood, each environment demanded its own sterility. I came into the summer looking for something grounding — a sense of direction, maybe even confirmation that the path I was on still made sense. I hoped that if I committed fully, asked the right questions, and paid close attention, something meaningful would take shape. But medicine and its pursuit, I learned, is rarely linear. Rejection and setbacks are necessary evils. The OR taught me that precision is only part of the equation; the lab reminded me that science fails much more than it succeeds. Through both, I came to see that sterility is not just physical: it is in our approach, our assumptions and our desire for control. I was reminded that the true reward in this work is not in meeting expectations or in crafting a perfect story in a predefined way; it is in uncovering the raw, unfiltered truth, no matter how it challenges or surprises you. Maybe this applies to life in general, but for me, it all started here. And as the summer sun set all too soon, I found myself reminiscing on the great experiences with even greater people — memories I will carry with me and reflect on for years to come.
Featured images courtesy of Abdullah A. Memon
Contributing Writer
Medical College of Wisconsin
Abdullah is a medical student at the Medical College of Wisconsin in Milwaukee, WI, Class of 2027. In 2022, he graduated from The Pennsylvania State University with a Bachelor of Science in Biology and Neuroscience, and a minor in Arabic. In his free time, he enjoys espresso, long blacks, and red eyes. After graduating from medical school, Abdullah plans to pursue a surgical career dedicated to head and neck cancer.
