When housekeeping reveals more than just dirt.

I went into physical therapy because of the good job outlook, relaxed wardrobe, and what I anticipated would be a career free of stress and emotional drama. But I ended up working with combat casualties at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, DC. It was located across the street from my new apartment, and when I saw the hospital sign, I sent in my resume—naively equating an easy commute with an easy job.

I was completely unprepared for what I would see that very first day, when, filled with optimism, I walked across the street and past the armed guards at the front gate.