Indulgent (EN)

Chapter 1

Amelia

2021

My whole life feels like a damn Groundhog Day: studying, interning, medical books in the evening. Constant sleep deprivation, lack of time with friends, pale skin from barely seeing the sun. When I got into med school, I had no idea what lay ahead. But despite the difficulties, I wouldn't change my decision. I love what I do, even though my father has often told me my career is dangerous and unlikely to make me rich in the future.

Now, I've successfully passed my exams and am in my internship, balancing university lectures with practice at a nearby hospital. Over the few months I've been working here, I haven't been given any complex tasks, but I'm actively involved in the process: talking to experienced doctors, attending consultations, helping nurses, studying case histories, and analyzing various simulated scenarios. In the future, I'll become an anesthesiologist and work in intensive care.

For the past five years, I've dedicated myself to studying, putting my personal life and friendships on hold. I had only one close friend, a bookworm like me, passionate about her future specialty as a therapist. We'd often sit in my apartment, surrounded by books, chocolate (chocolate is brain food, and no one can convince me otherwise!), protein bars, and flashcards with information we needed to memorize. We'd quiz each other, laugh when we forgot basic things.

Today was special. The hospital was hosting a presentation for new medical equipment purchased by a nonprofit charitable organization. These were devices for physiotherapy, rare and worth hundreds of thousands of hryvnias, designed to make the doctors' work easier and improve patient care.

Every day, I saw others' pain and suffering at the hospital. People with red eyes, lost, realizing they or their loved ones faced a fight for life. In such moments, I wanted to cry and hug them, if only to ease their suffering for a moment. The nurses told me that in time, I'd stop reacting like this. They said doctors eventually build a protective shell of detachment.

But I didn't just feel compassion — I held a wealth of knowledge and a desire to help. I knew that one day, I'd be able to make a difference, not just with kind words, but with professional actions. This thought kept me warm inside.

I tied my hair in a ponytail, looked at myself in the mirror, and applied some lip gloss. A white shirt, a pleated gray skirt, black tights — the look of a diligent student. I put on my boots and warm jacket, grabbed my car keys, and stepped outside.

The November air already had a breath of winter. Yellow trees stood covered with a thin layer of frost, and my breath turned to vapor, hinting at the frosts that were just around the corner. I got into the cold car, turned on the heater, and, while waiting for the interior to warm up, tried to warm my fingers with my breath.

All the interns and doctors were supposed to attend the presentation. There were planned reports on the work done and speeches from the charity representatives. I had never attended such events, so I was eagerly looking forward to it.

As I approached the hospital, I saw a few black SUVs and guards at the entrance. The guards with earpieces looked just like the ones who escorted my father when he left his home in Koncha-Zaspa, where he lived with my mother. Dashing up the steps and giving the guards a defiant look, I opened the door and entered, then climbed to the third floor, took off my jacket, and headed for the break room.

"Hey!" Margo, one of the interns in our small group of four, greeted me cheerfully. We got along despite our differences. She dyed her hair pink, which I thought was childish. She wore a nose piercing, which I hated. In her free time, she watched anime and seemed very relaxed, while I was always tense and spent every spare moment learning something new. Plus, I found nothing interesting in anime.