Where You Belong

120

Residents' Competition - Day Eleven

Meredith released a tired sigh as she turned off the lukewarm water in the residents' shower. The water temperature was always inconsistent, which she especially despised on a day like today where she really needed a hot shower. She had been up all night working without a single moment to rest. Her body was exhausted, but she needed the points. She had hoped a hot shower would wake her up.

Stifling a yawn, she wrapped a towel around her tired body and stepped into the lounge to get dressed. The lounge was, thankfully, empty. She hurriedly dried off and pulled on fresh underwear and a top, courtesy of her amazing husband who had not only brought her clothes at the beginning of the contest, but had taken home dirty clothes on two occasions to do laundry for her.

She honestly didn't know what she'd do without him.

After pulling fresh scrubs on, she put her damp hair up with the towel and sat on the bench to put her sneakers back on. Everything ached. The competition was gruelling and was starting to take its toll on her. She'd never been so exhausted. Every cell in her body was tired, it seemed.

When she finished tying her shoes she went to stand up, but stopped and sat back down on the bench. She buried her head in her hands and granted herself five minutes to sit and feel sorry for herself. She was tired and sore and wanted to go home.

She missed her home. She missed sleeping next to her husband. She missed their warm, comfortable bed. The on-call rooms were cold and the beds hard. She missed hot showers and she missed being able to dress without worrying about her prying eyes, other than Derek's, of course, though that she didn't mind his at all. She missed eating real food on a relatively regular schedule. She missed Derek's cooking. She missed Derek's teasing comments when she offered to help him cook.

She missed feeling like a human being.

"Just three more days," she muttered to herself. It would be so easy to just give up and go home now, but she had made it eleven days. She couldn't give up now.

With a sigh, she stood, wincing as her sore feet cried out that they really didn't want to support her right now. Ignoring the pain, she snatched her pager from her cubby and returned it to her waistband. She pulled the towel off her head and put her hair up into a pony tail. She then pulled her lab coat on over her scrubs and patted the right pocket. It was still there.

Meredith had been carrying around Dr. Wyatt's card for a day. Despite its small size, it felt heavy in the pocket of her lab coat. She had yet to make an appointment, but she felt better about herself for taking that first step. She had once read a study that found the act of going to therapy made people feel better, so she wondered if the same was true for thinking about going to therapy.

She had read the pamphlet given to her in the counselling department. It offered the promise of hope and support. It briefly described the six psychiatrists on staff, their education, specialties and experience. Dr. Wyatt's bio had made Meredith feel confident about the referral. She had gone to a good school and had several years of experience.

The pamphlet had also outlined the costs and payment options. When she was sure no one was looking, Meredith had used a hospital computer to check the Human Resources website for the hospital and found that her insurance covered twenty sessions.

She hoped she would need to use far less than twenty.

But to use any at all, she would have to make an appointment.

'Soon,' she told herself as she left the lounge.

After a week and a half, the scores were starting to spread out a bit. The rankings weren't changing several times daily like they had been in the first week. Cristina was leading, not that that was a surprise to anyone. Meredith and George were close to each other, within range to Cristina, but not within a point or two. Alex and Izzie were a dozen points or so behind them.