Baby, can I buy you a drink?

Final year has finally kicked in, full gear.

I'm tempted to hide all day because I don't want to face my weaknesses.

Alas, I am Atiqah. Despite being almost pathologically insane and having a heart made of cold hard rock (I stared blankly and gave a polite 'okay' with a smile as Mr McGreal throws rude comments my way...there's no way I'm giving him the satisfaction of watching me break under pressure), I have quite a good chunk of patience and common sense within me.

So I stood there as the surgeons drilled me with questions, I stood there while the team made fun of (and laughed at) my wrong answer, I stood there when McGreal cupped his head in his hands to show his frustration with me (and to make me feel stupid).

I stood there and admitted to myself that I suck at surgery and anatomy.

Not that this means I deserve to be treated like a useless airhead, but.

McGreal does teach, and he does want me to actually learn from his ward rounds, and clinics, and surgeries. So I should give him credit for that.

I'm waking up way earlier than what I'm used to, and I'm way too tired at the end of the day to do much studying at all.

My laundry basket looks like it's about to explode, and I only have dinner about twice a week.

My life is a disorganized array of events, and I feel like I have lost control of it completely.

This is final year of medical school,

what did I expect?





x
Atiqah