Walk into the room and it hits you like a ton of bricks
The scent which such a complicated description fits
The ominous aroma of potential impending doom
The irony of the situation is that of my dreams lie within this room

As soon as I’m wheeled in I see the man in the mask and blue gown
With his similarly dressed young padawans standing around
They’re all eager to get a chance to hold the knife
The concept of which scares me but also excites me because it the goal of my life

The scent of dreading an I.V.
Hoping to get into a medical school of ivy league quality
Hoping the anesthesiologist is an I.V. wizard
The scent of the room that’s cold as a blizzard
As I go under I start to feel heavy
Forced to inhale the starchy scent of the blanket wrapped around me

I find it kind of funny how the surgeon can be do so menacing
Even though that’s what I’ve wanted to be since my earliest memory
I find it kind of funny how a single scent can be so terrifying
Yet at the same time so awe inspiring