r/medicalschool • u/marzzlanding • 2h ago
💩 Shitpost Medical student trampled while leaning against me
It’s 11:43 a.m. on a Tuesday. The fluorescent lights are buzzing with the quiet rage of neglect, and I, a hospital wall, age 74, cracked in three places and suspiciously damp in one, am just minding my business, absorbing the emotional wreckage of another day in hell. I haven’t been washed since 1986. There’s a faint outline of a “Hand Hygiene Saves Lives” poster that fell off in ‘09 and was never replaced. And in my bottom left corner? A particularly stubborn patch of dried c. diff that’s been clinging on like a bad residency match.
The halls smell like burnt coffee, moth balls, crushed dreams, and the faint musk of someone who hasn’t slept since pre-rounds. A medical student stands quietly leaning against me. They’re nose deep in notes, muttering “infraspinatus... infraspinatus...” like it’s going to unlock some kind of clinical third eye. I can feel the anxiety radiating through their unwashed white coat, years of education, thousands of dollars, all coalescing into one fragile human sandwiching themselves between me and the slow death of their dreams.
Then I feel it. A shift in the air. The kind that only knows one antibiotic by the name of ancef. Thump. Thump. THUMP. Each step louder than the last, echoing through my tiles. An attending turns the corner at terminal velocity, 6’3”, 240 pounds of pure lumbar lordosis, Patagonia vest flapping through dim lit walls.
IMPACT
The student drops like a loose pen during a pimping session. Their notes go flying, one sheet sticks to me (hello again, rotator cuff). Another floats down next to the C. diff corner. And then the weirdest part, the student starts apologizing. Like they’ve just slapped the attending's mother. The attending looks down, all broad shouldered and mildly inconvenienced, and delivers a stare that causes even the asbestos in me to tremble.
He mutters something about a misspelled “infraspinatus” like it’s a felony. The student, still collecting their loose papers, slowly leans back against me again. I try to comfort them. I stay standing. Because I’m a hospital wall. Ive held up fuming surgeons, the tears of interns, and residents shattered dreams. And today, I held up one med student’s last ounce of dignity.
Stay upright, kings. And if you lean on me, maybe bring a disinfectant wipe.