ClinicalKey 2025-11-02T14:03:02Z

ClinicalKeyINSTITUTIONAL SUBSCRIPTION REQUIRED.Access the latest advances in clinical knowledge anytime, anywhere with ClinicalKey\xc2\xae- the essential resource for medical professionals..\xc2\xa0ClinicalKey combines the speed of synoptic content with the depth of a comprehensive clinical reference tool in one intuitive solution to provide clinicians trusted information in the moments that matter most. With ClinicalKey, you can:\xe2\x80\xa2\tStay abreast of rapidly expanding clinical knowledge

ClinicalKey Student BookshelfDownload the ClinicalKey Student Bookshelf app to access your personal bookshelf across all devices whenever you need it. Enhance your study experience with tools designed to build and improve your medical knowledge; making and sharing notes, highlighting key text and creating flashcards. Requirements:\xe2\x80\xa2 Android 5.0+\xe2\x80\xa2 ClinicalKey Student account\xe2\x80\xa2 The app is available in the following languages: English, Spanish, French, German, Port

Sweat soaked through my shirt as I cradled my gasping 8-year-old in a rural ER waiting room, his throat swelling shut from an unknown allergen. The nurse's rapid-fire questions about his medical history blurred into white noise - all I could recall was his peanut allergy. Then it hit me: the BlueButton icon on my phone's second home screen.

Rain lashed against my office window like thousands of tiny drummers playing a frantic rhythm of impending doom. The quarterly reports glared at me from three screens - crimson numbers bleeding into spreadsheets, mocking my shallow breaths. When my vision started tunneling and the walls seemed to breathe with me, I clawed at my phone in pure animal panic. That's when I stumbled upon Tranquil Mind during a gasping app store search for "instant calm." Not some fluffy meditation promise, but an eme

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Rain lashed against my studio window last Tuesday while sorting through water-damaged boxes from Mom's basement. My fingers froze when I uncovered a Polaroid of Jamie and me building our infamous treehouse fortress in '92. Mud streaked across his grinning face, one hand clutching a splintered plank while I mock-saluted with a rusty hammer. That summer he moved to Oregon was the last time we spoke. Thirty years of static silence screamed from that faded rectangle until I remembered the animation

The ambulance siren pierced through rush hour traffic as I white-knuckled the steering wheel. My phone buzzed violently against the passenger seat - another missed call from the school nurse. Sweat trickled down my neck when I realized Liam's asthma inhaler sat forgotten on our kitchen counter. That morning's chaotic scramble flashed before me: searching for lost permission slips while my son wheezed in the background, my fingers trembling too much to dial the school office. This wasn't the firs

The steering wheel felt slick under my palms as I white-knuckled through downtown traffic. That’s when the notification chimed – soft but insistent. *"Sudden Acceleration: -5 points."* My jaw clenched. DriveScore wasn’t just watching; it was judging every twitch of my lead foot. I’d downloaded it expecting discounts, not a digital driving instructor dissecting my commute like a forensic scientist.

CredibleMeds MobileThis CredibleMeds Mobile App supports the CredibleMeds.org website which maintains and posts lists of drugs in categories that reflect their ability to prolong the QT interval on the electrocardiogram and/or cause the life-threatening heart arrhythmia, torsades de pointes (TdP). The CredibleMeds Mobile App was developed for patients, especially those with Congenital Long QT Syndrome (cLQTS), healthcare professionals and research scientists in order to provide them with ready a

ASDetectASDetect enables parents and caregivers to review possible early signs of autism in their children aged younger than 2 \xc2\xbd years.With actual clinical videos of children with and without autism, each question focuses on a specific \xe2\x80\x98social communication\xe2\x80\x99 behaviour, f

Rain lashed against my Brooklyn apartment windows last Tuesday, trapping me inside with nothing but my phone and a suffocating sense of sterile perfection. Scrolling through my camera roll felt like wandering through a museum of flawless corpses – every 108MP shot clinically sharp yet utterly lifeless. That's when I remembered reading about LoFi Cam's deliberate embrace of flaws in some forgotten tech forum. Skeptical but desperate, I tapped install.

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Rain lashed against my studio windows as I finally crawled into bed after midnight, fingers still tingling with clay dust. Just as sleep pulled me under, a shrill chime shattered the silence - my phone blazing with a motion alert from the security system. Heart jackhammering against my ribs, I fumbled for the device. That visceral jolt of adrenaline still tastes like copper in my mouth months later.

Rain lashed against my studio windows as I stared at yet another rejected gallery submission. "Technically proficient but emotionally sterile," the curator's note read. My self-portraits felt like autopsy reports - clinically accurate but devoid of soul. That night, scrolling through photography forums with cheap wine bitterness on my tongue, I stumbled upon Twin Me! Clone Camera. Not another gimmick, I scoffed. But desperation breeds experimentation.

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Joint Academy***Joint academy is currently available in the UK as a self-funded service or through invite to participate in the local NHS or employer pilot.However, as we launch Joint Academy in the UK we are pleased to offer the first two weeks of your treatment free of charge, with no commitment t

Rain lashed against the windowpane when that familiar twinge stabbed my lower abdomen at 3:17 AM. Not again. Not tonight. My trembling fingers fumbled for the phone, its cold blue light cutting through the darkness like an interrogation lamp. I scrolled past social media garbage until I found it - that purple icon promising sanctuary. One tap unleashed a flood of memories: the hopeful beginnings, the crushing disappointments, the raw vulnerability of tracking my body's betrayals. This wasn't jus

Rain lashed against the coffee shop window as I stared at yet another clinically perfect smartphone photo - sharp edges bleeding into unnatural vibrancy. My thumb hovered over delete when memory struck: grandmother's hands kneading dough in her dim kitchen, captured forever in that grainy 2003 Sony Cybershot. That accidental poetry of light bleeding through cheap plastic lenses was what I craved, not this sterile digital autopsy. Scrolling through app stores felt like digging through landfill un

That Tuesday started with my phone buzzing like an angry hornet's nest - Twitter ablaze with unverified footage, WhatsApp groups spinning wild theories, and mainstream outlets regurgitating press releases without context. My knuckles turned white gripping the metro pole as conflicting reports about embassy evacuations in Caracas flooded my screen. Every nerve ending screamed for solid ground when I remembered the blue icon buried in my third home screen folder.