You know what I absolutely didnāt sign up for in med school? Records. Those thick, heavy, never-ending monsters that haunt my bag, my desk, my dreams. Every evening, I tell myself today Iāll finish at least two cases. But no. I stare at the blank page, try writing āName, Ageā¦ā and suddenly Iām scrolling Instagram or questioning my life choices.And donāt even get me started on the handwriting. First page? Neat like a topper. By page five? It looks like a chicken walked over my paper.Whatās worse is when you proudly carry that 500-page record to the prof and they flip it, frown, and say:
āRewrite this. And whereās the discussion? Where are the diagrams? This isnāt acceptable.ā
BRO. At this point, Iām convinced records exist only to test our patience and back strength. If youāve ever balanced your record on your knees during lectures trying to finish it before submission I see you, weāre warriors. 
