The first thing that went out the window was personal hygiene. When I stayed up the night before an exam, my body reflected all the usual battle scars: sleep deprived eyes, coffee breath, and 3-day-old hair. The weeks leading up to finals, my apartment became a national park with mountains of laundry and take-out tray canyons. It was completely normal for my flashcard count to exceed my steps for the day. “This is fine,” I told myself.   Just like on the graphs I had to study, my stress grew exponentially during my first year of pharmacy school. Doctorate programs...