A few days before the beginning of anatomy class, we received our course syllabus, a stack of 
papers nearly two inches thick. It contains seemingly anatomical structures that we must 
commit to memory in the first ten weeks of school and carry with us throughout our careers as 
physicians. But the one sentence I remember most vividly is not the location of some 
insignificant artery or the vertebral level of my belly button. It is more subtle ....."This is 
your first patient.? This statement may make very little sense. This individual is deceased. 
There is nothing I. or any body else could possibly do to help this person. Yet I thought a lot 
about this apparently absurd statement and began to make sense of it. As a medical student, I 
will encounter hundreds of patients in my education, learning valuable lessons and information 
that will help me be a competent and caring physician. However, I will know none better than 
nor learn more from any other patient than I do from this man who gave me the most 
incredible and generous gift of his body. I will not forget 

My father once told me that every person who enters the army never forgets his drill sergeant 
from boot camp. The study of human anatomy has aptly been referred to as the medical 
students' boot camp. If we survive the rigorous schedule and incredible wealth of information 
heaped upon us by our professors we can do anything. But just as the private first class cannot 
learn to carry his rifle without doing it, so too, doctors cannot learn to heal the body if they 
don't understand it. Somewhere down the road, I will be seeing my own patients every day. 
Together we will try to figure out what is causing their problems and my patient will be right 
there with us. He will be in my head supplying mental images to help me perform the art of 
medicine. And by being there, he continues to give the gift of himself. But now it is no longer 
a gift to me but to my patients.

I cannot help but believe that my first patient looks down from his seat in the afterlife and 
takes joy and pride in watching me learn from him. He is filled with gratification that even in 
death he contributes to the betterment of the world. It is rare that any of us get the opportunity 
to work with someone so dedicated to the human race. consider myself very lucky. 

My one wish ..... that I could spend just one hour with my patient, talk to him and find out 
about his life and his family, his hopes and joys and interests. But, unfortunately, I cannot, 
Maybe someday, he and I will look down from our seats in the afterlife and watch as some 
young medical student begins to learn from my body. And then we can talk about all those 
things and we can share a sense of satisfaction that hundreds of people will have a better life 
because of us.