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Miss Patrick, I need to speak with you after class.
Ten words.
I obsess over the ten words for thirty minutes.
Class ends.
Everyone leaves.
Except me.
Dr. Donahue has zero personality.
You never know if she’s serious or not.
And to be truthful, when it comes to a lot of the doctors I deal with, nobody is ever joking around. Especially in this pre-med world. This is all hardcore learning and prep for what I’m told is something even more insane - med school.
Oh, and then there’s residency after that…
I try not to think too far in advance.
Now I’m standing at Dr. Donahue’s desk.
I’m trying really hard not to give off the fact that I’m terrified.
I’m terrified of her in general and just as terrified of what she’s about to say to me.
“This test,” she says getting right into it.
Never a hello. Or how are you?
Her face is mean.
Not stern.
Not a resting bitch face.
It’s just plain mean.
“The test,” I say. “Yes. Did I… forget something?”
“Your analysis,” she says. “You seemed to cut yourself short.”
“I was up against space and time, Dr. Donahue.”
“Is that a fair excuse?”
“The exams are timed. With all due respect.”
“Timed,” she says. “Fair to say that fits in well with medicine? A patient in front of you may only have minutes left to live. Seconds even. You have to decide. Act. There are no retakes.”
“No, there isn’t.”
She hands me my exam back.
That’s not a good sign.
“Perfect score,” she says. “The only one in the class to get it.”
