The Cost of Feelings

The first cut

Ella walked into the anatomy lab, barely able to mask her reluctance as the sharp smell of formaldehyde hit her. The lab was bustling with students, all dressed in new lab coats, their faces animated and eager. She adjusted her pristine, ironed coat, feeling stiff and out of place. This is what they wanted, she reminded herself. Her parents, with their dreams of her becoming the family’s first doctor, had practically enrolled her in medical school themselves. Ella couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked what she wanted.

She barely glanced at the course outline her lab partner, Ryan, slid over to her. “Ready for this?” he asked, a faint smile on his face. He seemed genuinely excited, or maybe just confident, as though this world of dissections and medical jargon was second nature to him.

“Sure,” she murmured, hoping he couldn’t tell she was anything but ready. Her stomach churned as the professor began speaking at the front of the room, his voice booming across the lecture hall.

“Today, we’re covering the basics of the chest wall and superficial muscles, starting with the pectoralis major and minor,” the professor announced, adjusting his glasses. “I assume everyone’s familiar with the sternum, intercostal muscles, and the rib cage?” He looked around, his eyes catching on each student as if gauging their understanding.

Ella felt her heart race. She knew the words—sternum, rib cage, intercostals—but they felt hollow, like phrases in a language she didn’t understand.

Ryan, meanwhile, was practically leaning forward in anticipation. “Let’s start with the pectoralis major,” he suggested, pulling on his gloves and gesturing toward the cadaver on their table. Ella followed suit, slipping on her gloves and willing herself not to recoil as Ryan lifted the sheet.

There it was, a preserved body lying motionless, skin pale and leathery. Ella forced herself to look, feeling her stomach tighten. I have to get through this, she told herself. Just keep it together.

“Okay, the pectoralis major,” Ryan said, guiding her through the layers with a gloved finger. “It’s this broad chest muscle here, responsible for moving the arm.” He seemed completely at ease, his tone light and patient, like he was explaining the features of a painting rather than pointing out muscles on a cadaver.

Ella nodded, trying to match his focus. She lifted her scalpel, following Ryan’s guidance, but her hand shook slightly. She couldn’t ignore the feeling of disconnection, of not belonging in this room or to this world.

Ryan glanced up at her, noticing her hesitation. “You good?” he asked, his tone gentle.

“Yeah, just… trying to keep it all straight,” she lied, hoping he wouldn’t see through her mask of calm.

Ryan gave her an encouraging nod. “It’s overwhelming at first. I was a wreck my first day in a cadaver lab back in undergrad. Just take it slow.”

Ella managed a grateful smile, appreciating his attempt to reassure her, even though it did little to calm her racing thoughts. She watched as he pointed to the sternum, a thick, bony ridge at the center of the chest. “This is the sternum, and these are the intercostal muscles in between the ribs. They help with breathing.”

He made it sound so simple, as though it all made sense to him in a way it never would for her. Ella traced the lines he pointed out, her fingers brushing over the textures and contours. She could see why someone might find this fascinating—the intricate design of the human body, how each muscle and bone worked together. But for her, it was hard to feel anything beyond the heavy pressure of expectation, a cage of responsibilities that wasn’t her own.

As the professor walked around the room, he offered insights and answered questions, occasionally pausing by Ella and Ryan’s table. When he looked at Ella, she straightened, hoping he wouldn’t notice her hesitation.

“Anatomy is the foundation of everything you’ll do in medicine,” he said, nodding toward the cadaver. “Understanding these structures is the first step toward becoming a healer.”

Ella wanted to believe his words, but they felt as distant as the terms in her textbook. She was only here because of her parents’ dreams, their unspoken rule that medicine was the ultimate path to success. She had never once been asked what she wanted out of life.

Ryan seemed to notice her quietness. After the professor moved on, he glanced at her again. “If you don’t mind me asking… did you want to go into medicine?”

The question caught her off guard. She hesitated, the truth almost slipping out. “My parents wanted it,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ryan nodded, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “I get it. My dad’s a surgeon, so this path was kind of laid out for me, too. But… I actually like this stuff.” He looked down at the cadaver, his face softening. “There’s something amazing about learning how we’re put together.”

Ella looked at him, feeling a pang of envy. He had been given the same expectations, but at least he’d found a way to make them his own. She forced herself to concentrate as he continued explaining the muscles, his voice steady and reassuring. He moved on to the thoracic cavity, pointing out the cartilage and how the rib cage expanded during breathing. He made it seem like the simplest thing in the world, while Ella felt like she was drowning in terminology she barely understood.

As they wrapped up, the professor called out, “Please review today’s material. Understanding the muscular and skeletal systems is critical for our next session.” The room buzzed as students packed up, many already discussing their plans for review and study groups.

Ryan glanced at Ella, his face kind. “If you ever want to go over stuff together, I’d be happy to help,” he offered.

Ella managed a smile. “Thanks, Ryan. I might take you up on that.”

As they walked out of the lab, she could feel herself drifting further from this life, her thoughts returning to the art studio she wished she was in, to the sketches and paints she longed to pour herself into. Ryan’s genuine interest in anatomy only made her feel more like an imposter, her heart aching with the realization that her passion lay elsewhere.

Back in her dorm, Ella sat on her bed and stared at her anatomy notes, her mind wandering to her art supplies tucked in a drawer beneath her bed. She knew the world she wanted, a life of colors and canvases, not cold steel and sterile lab rooms. Yet, here she was, in a path she hadn’t chosen.

As she closed her notebook, she felt the weight of her parents’ expectations settle over her once more.