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A doctorate degree is the highest educational achievement in Arcadia.

No matter where you come from or who you have ties to, a doctorate automatically fast tracks you into the upper echelon of society.

We dream of climbing that proverbial mountain for the riches and spoils that accompany the high life.

But unfortunately, very few survive twelve grueling years of med school and residency.

During my first year of med school half of my peers were weeded out immediately. I don’t mean to point out others’ shortcomings, but the drama queen, the blind guy and the two leprechauns clearly didn’t have what it took.

Every year another peer would inevitably drop out.

There was one guy who couldn’t grasp that medicine was based on science, not art, so he lost it, killed one of our professors, and displayed him in the classroom like a abstract painting.

One guy spent way too much time jamming on his guitar. Maybe it was the pressure, but he dropped out during third year finals.

In fourth year there was one chap who dropped out because of morbid hyperlipidemia. No one knew if it was from his unhealthy candy consumption or this red syrup he was hooked on.

Then in last year of med school this fabled man kept bragging about how he’d seen it all twice, but his wealth of knowledge came from already failing out of school once before. Unfortunately his second attempt ended with the same result.

And then began residency.

As soon as this one fellow could write prescriptions he began pedaling drugs, and was expelled for it. Rumor has it he was the one who got the fourth year dropout hooked on that red syrup.

The following year a resident violated privacy regulations for photographing surgeries without patient consent, and he was terminated.

We found out the following year that it was the whistleblower who called himself a god that turned that bloke in. But even though he followed protocol to a T, he often missed the point and his weak skills were exposed in lab.

In third year residency the pediatrics resident had a psychotic break, his schizophrenia causing him to drop out.

Fourth year was research based, and we had one doctor who was super focused on pathology, and ironically he became a martyr for his own cause when he caught the plague.

Fifth year was a return to the operating room, and one resident with halitosis kept off script during surgeries, purposely mutilating his patients, which didn’t sit well with the board.

In the penultimate year, a self proclaimed doctor decided to make his patients his personal science experiment, and after nearly burning a man to death he was let go.

I was the only one out of my class who made it through that final, seventh year of residency to acquire my doctorate.

And now I will climb Mount Olympus and attain the highest degree possible in OSW because I am the only one with the experience and credentials to do so.

Now let these credentials raise me up to the elite status I’ve so rightfully earned.