Can I Get A Free Medical Assisting Course Certificate Online?

You think medical school is all anatomy labs and stethoscopes? Yeah, me too. That's what I signed up for. Instead, I got her. Or maybe, I got them. Orientation day. First hour. I was just trying to survive the college officer's speech about not doing drugs. Then the door opened. Three guys who looked like they bench-pressed fun. And a girl with the face of a doll and a voice that could make you forget your own name. Amaye. I had a boyfriend named Donald who was supposed to be in Europe, but he only called when I was about to make bad decisions. And I kept making them. Seven years of medical school. Seven years of tests, assignments, deadlines, and the hottest friend group on campus. I thought I was becoming a doctor. Turns out I was becoming something else entirely. This is my story. Or maybe it's a confession. I haven't decided yet. But I wrote it all down because someone needed to see med school through a different lens. I didn't see it through a lens. I lived it. #medical chaos #reverseharem #girlpower

As I walk out of the emergency room, a woman rushes over to me. "You're a doctor, right? My son scraped his knee. Hurry up and come treat him!" I am about to explain, but she glares at me and questions indignantly, "Isn't a doctor supposed to save people? You have time to slack off, but you have no time to treat my son's wound. Is that it?" She grabs my collar and drags me toward the ward. I try to explain, "Ma'am, I’m not—" But she doesn't listen at all and slaps me across the face. "Not what? Are you blind? Can't you see my son is bleeding? Instead of helping my son, you treat those poor nobodies! If you keep delaying my son's treatment, I won't let you off! "Get on your knees and apologize to him right now! Otherwise, I'll file a complaint and have your license revoked!" I endure the sharp pain and struggle to lift my head. In my five years of practicing medicine, this is the first time I have ever been complained about by a living person. "It's not that I won't treat him. I am a forensic pathologist..."

After passing my veterinary licensing exam, I posted the news online to celebrate. My elderly neighbor, Gloria Vance, immediately fired off a string of messages. [Miles, my grandson's sick. Could you treat him?] [I'm really worried about the boy. He's had a fever for days now.] I slowly typed out a single: [?] Another message came through. [We're neighbors, after all. Just show a little compassion and save the child.] Trying to be kind, I wrote back, [Mrs. Vance, if your grandson's sick, you need to get him to a hospital right away. I can't treat him.] To my surprise, she fired back a voice message. "Aren't you studying medicine? What's the harm in taking a look at my grandson? How can a person be so stingy? "If you won't help, I'll report you to your university and have them expel a student with character as rotten as yours!" I was floored. I study veterinary medicine. How am I supposed to treat a human child?

I was the best surgical hand in the department, and after three flawless operations in a row, I got slapped with an official reprimand and had my entire month's bonus docked. I wasn't having it. I marched straight to the Medical Affairs Office to hash it out with the manager, Gerald Sneed. "I've given this hospital ten years! Name one time I wasn't the first one in when it mattered! Last year, I pulled five surgeries back-to-back and collapsed on my feet by the end of it! What exactly did I do wrong that you're cutting my bonus over?" I was good at what I did, but my life outside the hospital was no easier. Mortgage, car payment, my kid's basketball lessons. I had been counting on that month's bonus to cover it, and now it was gone. I wasn't letting this slide. Since when did a successful surgery count as a mistake? Given my standing at the hospital, Manager Sneed didn't dare go toe-to-toe with me. Instead, he tried to smooth things over. "Dr. Cole, during that surgery you ran at three in the morning two nights ago, you drank two bags of glucose solution off the books, and it ended up billed to the patient. The family found out and accused us of overcharging. It's already blowing up online. Our hands are tied here." That's when it came back to me. That emergency surgery two nights ago had been a mess. It wasn't even supposed to be mine. I had already been on my feet in the OR for thirty-six straight hours, but the deputy director came looking for me and swore no one else could pull it off. So I gritted my teeth and scrubbed in. The surgery went perfectly. And somehow, that was what it got me. I took a breath and changed my tone. "I understand completely. This one's on me. I'll take a month off, go home, and think it over." Manager Sneed, pleased with himself for scoring one against me, approved the leave on the spot. What he didn't expect was that only a week later, the hospital director himself would call, begging me to come back to work.

I was reborn one month before the forensic certification exam. This time, I spent my days drinking and clubbing instead of slaving away studying, for the class belle had bound me to an Achievement Transfer System in my previous life. We had prepared for the forensic certification together, and I'd burned the midnight oil while she slacked off and partied. Yet, I scored a zero and failed, while she got exactly what she wanted and passed when the results were out. The entire class praised the class belle for her talent and mocked me, saying a nobody like me could never rise above my station. Unwilling to accept it, I demanded a review of the exam. The results showed that every single one of my answers was wrong, while hers were all correct. I searched through everything from my past experiments, only to find that every certificate bore the class belle's name. The class belle then put on an innocent front and accused me of misconduct, declaring imperiously, "Dakota Saunders, you've always pretended to be hardworking in front of others. I just didn't expect you to lie for so long that you started believing it yourself! "And now you've even stolen my certificates! You're disgusting. A thief like you belongs in the sewers, not here!" I was scorned by everyone and expelled from the academy. In the end, unable to bear the blow, I jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to one month before the forensic certification exam.

My mom ran a clinic her whole life, charging just five dollars for cold medicine. After I took over the clinic, I followed her teachings closely, doing my best to care for the folks in our community. However, after I charged an influencer 30 dollars for medication, I got blasted online as a scam clinic that was out to rob people blind. The entire town showed up at my door, young and old alike, demanding I return the 'overcharged' fees. I gave them exactly what they wanted and refunded every penny before shutting down the clinic for good. "There you go, just like you wanted. The clinic's closed. From now on, if you've got health concerns, feel free to drive 30 miles to the county hospital for consultation. I wish you all good health." The very next day, they were back at my door again. Only this time, they were begging me to reopen.