How to hang:
Framed Prints 11x14 and 12x12 inches or smaller include a sawtooth hanger (you'll need a nail and hammer to install). Larger Framed Prints include mounted brackets and a hardware kit, so all you'll need is a hammer.
Scratch-resistant. Wipe clean with a damp cloth.
As seen in
Art in real life
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It happened. That thing you always thought about when you get on the airplane after graduating med school. It plays out differently in your head, though. More dramatic, more heroic, more... definitive. You want it to be like the movies. “Is there a doctor on the plane??” My hand rose up before my mind even realIzed. Holy shit. I am a doctor. And i was the only one on the plane. My mind quickly caught up to my hand and i immediately second guessed myself. “Please tell me theres another, more senior physician besides myself, on this plane” i thought as i edged passed my neighbor in the aisle seat. I felt everyones eyes following me. Then, there in front of me, was a mother holding her young son in her arms. “Oh a doctor thank god, help my son, help him!” All my confidence quickly slipped away as my past 9 months of extensive medical training was focused entirely and exclusively on adults. My only pediatric medical training consisted of a 6week rotation as a third year medical student almost three years ago. MI and PE suddenly dropped to the way bottom of my differential. A. B. C. Check his airway, i thought. Ok, hes moving air, not cyanotic, breathing seems unlabored. Ok good, good. This is good. Hes breathing. Find a pulse. Regular, strong. A bit fast though. Hes tachy. Why is he tachy? GET ME AN EKG. CXR. STAT. DAMNIT. Where are the rest of my vitals? Wheres the nurse. Call The RRT. Wheres My resident? No where. No RRT. No scanners or tele. I am alone. Completely and entirely alone. Ive never had to assess a patient-a child- in any setting other than a hospital. All i had was my cursory 6 week peds rotation and my novice physical exam skills. I felt all of those eyes watching me, “the doctor.” I became tachy. This was not at all like the movies. I tried to get him to respond, called his name, rubbed his sternum, but his blank stare continued off into the distance. His neurons were firing in patterns that didn’t correlate with normal cognition, his brain was spontaneously depolarizing. His tiny hand was clenched in an awkward fist, wrist unnaturally flexed. Seizure shot up to the top of the differential... (to be continued)