౨ৎ in which aliya levine enters her third year of surgical residency with overbearing parents, an ex who left her heartbroken, a green eyed rich boy, a chaotic best friend and a pair of twisted sisters.
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chapter twenty one━almost grown season seven, episode five
❝ holy shit!❞
⠀ ⠀ ⠀
Advancing in the medical field felt like a metaphor for life, because everyone knew doctors liked metaphors.
One moment your practicing sutures on anything you can get your hands on until they bleed — an array of fruit (mainly a banana), old clothing, or even an animal heart in the skills lab — then the next moment, you're sewing a perfect running whip stitch into a cadaver.
And, before you know it, you're performing your first solo surgery, using everything you had learned up to that moment, no hand to guide you, just you and the serene calm and complete chaos of the operating room.
From the first day of med school and all the way to the board exams, doctors are treated like adult toddlers.
They still have their training wheels on, they might have had odd moments where they were removed, but they were always put back on.
It was a safety net.
You knew they were going to be put back on, but one inevitable day, you are kicked out from the safety of residency and into the real world of being a fellow — where your choices are completely your own. No relying on your attending. Instead, you rely only on your own instincts and then, you realise, you're standing completely alone, without a safety net to catch you.
The Levine doctor woke up, the frustrating headache she usually developed in the early morning that was constantly pounding behind her eyes and ears had seemed to have cleared, and for once her mind felt empty.
Which made for a nice change, seeing as her thoughts were usually clouded with weapons of mass destruction, otherwise known as her memories.
Her eyes finally managed to adjust to the light flooding in from her open curtains that she had left open, where she was greeted by birds outside in the tree in the yard, whistling melodies in the morning wind. It felt very fairytale.
Blinking, she pushed herself from the bed to sit upright, still cocooned deep into her duvet, she yawned in her palm.
She had a tendency to romanticise her life in the morning, some may call it delusion.
However, that lasted for about half a second until the flashbacks from the previous night stormed into her mind like a SWAT team.
