I have always wanted to be a doctor, but I have also had doubts to whether I could handle it emotionally. When I was a junior in high school I signed up for an anatomy class. Everything that I learned in that class was so interesting to me. We learned about anything and everything that made the human body do what it does. It was an incredible class. About a month into the class our teacher went into the back room and brought back a couple large boxes. I had heard about this part of the class from some of my friends that had taken anatomy in the previous years. Before he opened the box, he warned us about what was inside. He had ordered 10 dead cats from some science organization for us to dissect.
             "If your stomach can't handle dissecting these little fur-balls, then there is absolutely no way I will take you on the cadaver field trip!" he said.
             I couldn't believe my ears! He was actually going to take us on a field trip to see cadavers. Although it sounded gross beyond belief, I had a weird and vicarious sense of curiosity about what it would be like and how I would feel about seeing dead bodies. About a half hour after he had pulled the cats out, the students who objected to dissecting cats had left the room. It was time to begin cutting.
             Several weeks passed by, and we had slowly worked our way to the very interiors of the cats. Although I did not like dissecting the "fur-balls", I was anxious to go on the field trip. Finally, on a Friday after class, our teacher announced the field trip. We were going to the University of Utah's Cadaver Lab on Monday. It was only a short two-hour drive from my home in Green River, Wyoming. All weekend long I couldn't help but think about the trip. But what was I excited for? When I asked myself that question I found no answer. There was something far beyond my comprehension that was driving my ex
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