medicine {h.s.}

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

june.

Ruth is going through a phase. She's at the point in her pregnancy where she's grown rather irritable about small things. Obviously, it's understandable. On a scientific level: her hormones are entirely out of balance and the fact that she maintains her cool long enough to be a functioning surgical intern is astounding. The fact that she's on her feet at the end of a long day and makes herself meals and ensures that she has taken her vitamins is admirable. But that's not entirely the point.

On a more humane level the point is simple: she's experiencing FOMO. She's reached the point in her pregnancy when she is beginning to grow tired of being pregnant. She's restless. She always feels like she is missing out on the next big thing. Even the mundane things suddenly seem so much more interesting to her. For example, when we all go to the Fat Monk and get a couple of drinks after a shift, she gets annoyed. She'll just sit there with her nose stuck up while the rest of us get drunk around her. At first we delivered props to her for going in the first place. Obviously we all wanted her around, and the Fat Monk is part of our routine. It has been since we first started this place. For me, the place has been around a lot longer.

Quickly we found out that Ruth isn't the world's coolest pregnant lady. After a long-winded speech, she announced that she was feeling excluded. It would bother her when we would make plans that the rest of us could attend to without any consideration for her and the life she is growing inside her. All of us felt bad—understandably—and asked if there was anything we could do to help her feel better during this beautiful time. Her answer was simple: for the rest of her pregnancy, the rest of us are to abstain from drinking alongside her.

The rest of us are to spend the rest of the next three months indulging in no more than an occasional glass of wine with her. Naturally, the four of us were rather hesitant to hop on board. It's not exactly our burden to bear. But after she gave us those angry pregnant woman eyes, there was little that she couldn't convince us to do. We made that agreement about a week and a half ago. Bearing that in mind, I hadn't bothered to request today—June 6, my birthday—off. It wasn't like I would be doing much celebrating, in the first place.

Besides, I'm not typically the type to go out and party on my birthday. Hell, I've never really been the type of person who was interested in celebrating their birthday, period. As a child, I knew expectations were met with disappointment. Birthdays were just another holiday that my mother forgot, so I didn't bother trying to celebrate them. As a kid, this sucked. But as an adult I didn't really mind it all that much. I don't necessarily see the point in celebrating growing another year older.

But for some reason, this year feels different.

It's even different in the way that it feels different. I'm not exactly sure what it is that has changed. Maybe I'm just excited that I actually have people that I want to spend the day with, and people who want to spend the day with me, as well. Or maybe I'm just at a different stage in my life. For the first time I'm happy on my birthday. Things seem to be good and going right. On my birthday, this must be something of a first. I can't remember the last time—if ever—that I had someone to celebrate my birthday with. More than that, I have choices. I have people—plural—who would want to spend the day with me, had I warned them about the occasion. Of course, old habits die hard and I hadn't thought about telling anyone about my special day. Regardless, had they known I am sure that any number of the people in my life would love to spend the day with me: Will, Harry, Ruth, TJ, Monty, Fitzy... any one of them would have definitely been more than happy to do something with me on the special day marking my twenty-sixth birthday.

Ten years ago, I would never have predicted this for my life. As I stare at myself now in the mirror of the intern locker room, I'm shocked by the natural expression of the girl looking back at me. There is no ingrained frown. Instead, she is smiling back at me. As though the simple act of living is enough of a thing to smile about. I can't remember the last time I was so genuinely happy without any sort of alternative interference.