A Medical Student's Diary

Needles

7 February 2021

Today too, it's raining.

I sat in my room, fiddling with an IV pack. We already practiced IV insertion two days ago. Now, we need to practice on our own. The third OSCE is barely 10 days away.

I already bought 2 IV packs for practice, but now I'm lost at where to practice. I don't have the hand mannequin.

I looked down on my arms.
What if I...

No. It would be too dangerous.

Still, a part of me can't help but wonder.

'Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back'

Just a prick, just a little prick, maybe...

I shook my head. This is where I should stop. It's not like I haven't had my share of injections, actually I have plenty. I don't enjoy pain either. On the contrary, I dislike pain. My tolerance for pain and discomfort is very low, it took me years to learn to bear with it.

I started to think,
People who cut and hurt themselves... Was it all started from curiosity?

My mind started to walk down the memory lane.
I remembered a highschool friend of mine, and the talk we had one time, also in a cold afternoon, similar to today.
---

We were just done with cram school, just twelfth grade students hanging out at a cheap restaurant frequently visited by students. I don't remember how and why the flow of conversation went to that topic, but somehow we did.

She showed me her wrist, several thin white lines marred it. I was shocked, I knew that our highschool isn't as healthy as it looked, me personally knowing several seniors who had attempted worse. But it was my first time seeing scars on my friend.

She proudly said that she hadn't attempted to cut herself for several months already, and I can see the scars had already healed. I can't help but be curious, thus I asked her, "Why?"

Thinking back, that question shouldn't have been asked so lightly. But the Me at that time wasn't able to fathom why would people resort to such a thing.

Sadly I have forgotten most of her answers, with my memory somehow deteriorating much faster than ever recently.

But I remembered that she said she did it without thinking, just absentmindedly grabbing a kitchen knife, not even shedding tears. She said that the pain only comes after it was done. Searing hot pain, as she showed it to her mother, who then embraced her and cried.

I was shook to the core of my being. I didn't notice, not at all. I can't do anything, I can't help her. It wasn't my place to, was it?

How many people close to me are suffering in silence?

She waved my concern with a laugh. Soon, her mother came to pick her up, and we each went our own ways. I last met her a year ago, at a reunion. She was doing much better, college seems to have suited her more than highschool. I'm happy for her, and I wished her good luck.
---

Now though, I can somehow understand. There are times when I felt so frustrated, so lost, so angry at myself. My chest felt so tight, it's suffocating. It hurts so much, I can't even cry.

Instead, I started clawing at my arm. With my nails, scratch, scratch, scratch.

When I finally snapped out of it, my pale skin had turned red and hot. Pressing my scorching arm to my cold cheek feels pleasant.

But I had never drawn blood on purpose. That's where I draw the line.

My thoughts snapped back into reality. I eyed the IV pack. Carefully, I put everything back and resealed it. I'll try making a makeshift mannequin with a bottle and sponge later. A friend succeeded in making one, so I'll ask them to show me a picture.

For now, I should just rewatch the tutorial video.

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A/N

Hello, Setsu here. Thank you for reading this glorified diary. I can't promise a set schedule, as I really did this just to let out some steam, and to practice writing.

The chapters length will vary as well, depending on how much serotonin I have at the moment.
That's all, I hope you enjoyed the ride.