*** Featured on StoruesUndiscovered ***
A bittersweet story about a lover who never stayed and a love that never ended.
Disclaimer- This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the products of my imagination. Any resemblance is...
"You're so brave. Stone-cold crazy for loving me. I'm amazed. I hope you make it out alive." Brave by Jhenè Aiko.
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Thursday, June 18th, 2020 (Five years later)
5:10 AM
"Wake up, baby girl." A velvety voice whispered, punctuating every word with wet kisses that trailed down my body.
With my forehead creased in concentration, "Not yet." I mumbled. I was determined to use every second of sleep I could get before the dreadful sound of my alarm demanded for my day to begin.
I had a long day ahead of me—48 hours of running around a hospital hallway, to be precise. Not as a volunteer. Not as a family member of a patient. But as May Van de Kamp, M.D.
I had received my M.D., degree from Columbia School of Medicine, a few months ago. To say I was ecstatic would be playing it down. I was beyond overjoyed. Words wouldn't do my feeling justice. Becoming a doctor was the one dream of mine I never gave up on. Not when money got tight and life got tougher. Not on the days I was so hopeless, I thought it was just a pipe dream. Not on the nights I was emotionally drained and contemplated quitting.
Against all odds, I persevered and carried through. Because I wasn't only doing it for myself, I was doing it for my parents, too. For my dad, who had raised me to be a dreamer while giving up on his dreams to make space for my big ones. (He was probably up in heaven smiling down at me with nothing but pride on his face. May he continue to rest in peace.) And for my mom, who had shown me that there was strength in weakness as she rose from the brink of death, battled against addiction—a disease—and won.
I dreamed. I fought. I accomplished. And I was more than ready to conquer.
Back in March, a few days before I matched in emergency medicine at Lenox Hill Hospital in New York, a pandemic was declared, pausing the world on its track. It was the beginning of chaos—a crisis. It was an awful time that didn't need to be recapped. But it gave my career as a doctor a jump start.
In just a few months, I felt more like a trained doctor than a doctor in training. My first day of internship was supposed to begin in June, but because the demand for healthcare workers had increased, I was told to pick up my stethoscope and begin working before March even ended.
I was on call 24/7, I barely went to my apartment, I hadn't seen my family in months, and I wasn't even able to attend my virtual commencement. While I was supposed to be shadowing my attendings, running labs, and giving rectal exams as an intern, I was working frontline, calling time of death, and FaceTiming family members of dying patients.
Nevertheless, I was more than grateful to have had the knowledge and the opportunity to provide compassionate care for my patients and be able to help humanity as a whole at such a critical time.
With my protest disregarded, the smooch fest continued, leaving wet trails all over my face, from the start of my hairline to the tip of my chin. Grumbling under my breath, I stirred and pushed the heavyweight pressing above me.
