౨ৎ in which aliya levine begins 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.
» jackson avery x fem!oc
» grey's anatomy, sea...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
chapter twenty one━almost grown season seven, episode five
❝ holy shit!❞
⠀ ⠀ ⠀
Advancing in the medical field felt as if it were a metaphor for life, because everyone knew doctors liked a good metaphor.
(Aliya's med school professors used one every single chance they got.)
One moment you're practicing sutures on anything you can get your hands on until they bleed (an array of fruit, 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 tranquillity of the operating room.
From the very 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, a guarantee.
You knew they were going to be put back on, but one inevitable day, you were going to be kicked out from the safety of residency and into the real world of being a fellow, where your choices were completely your own.
No relying on your attending.
No relying on anyone, just your very own instincts and 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 hours of the 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 lazy 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 much like a fairytale, and those very birds were going to swoop in and help her get dressed in the morning.
Blinking, she pushed herself from the bed to sit upright, and 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. Others may call it a way of life.
