Brain Games

1. Strike A Match

I curse my hands for slightly trembling as I run them over the skirt of my knee length maroon dress with chiffon sleeves, smoothing it out. I'm going to be a neurosurgeon for crying out loud, I can't have my silly little nerves affect me this much.

But today is a big day, I remind myself. A life changing day.

I huff out an impatient, anxious sigh, assessing and knit picking my reflection in the mirror, noting the changes my body has gone through these last four years. My face seems more defined, despite the fourteen pounds I've gained since undergrad. My natural golden skin has only gotten a half a shade darker, despite living in the California sunshine. But I guess that's my fault, I spent too much time inside studying instead of soaking up some rays. Lastly, I note how much older I look. Most likely due to stress, but I don't exactly look like my 80 year old grandmother just yet. I at least pull it off, looking more mature and wiser. At least that's what I tell myself.

But there's something off...

I stare long and hard at my reflection before looking around the bathroom counter, finding nothing that sparks my intuition. Opening up the medicine cabinet, the first thing I spot is my contact lens case and solution, and it all clicks. I take the small case out of the cabinet and set it on the counter before walking into my bedroom to grab my signature thick rimmed glasses off the night stand. I carry them back to the bathroom and wash my hands before removing my contact lenses, putting on my glasses instead.

There.

Now I feel more like me.

Ever since the second grade, I've had to wear glasses—since my eyesight is pure and utter crap. I've been wearing glasses all my life because contacts always sort of freaked me out, but I had to suck it up once I reached medical school. Once I hit rotations in the operating room, that sometimes lasted hours on end, I decided to ditch my glasses for contacts because my glasses would sometimes start to slip off my nose or they'd frequently fog up with the mask, no matter how hard I tried. Though I despise contacts, they have made working in the OR easier. 

Plus, wearing contacts sort of makes me feel like Superman. By day, in contacts, I'm in the OR helping save lives, while at night, and on my rare days off, I'm like seemingly mere mortal Clark Kent in my beloved thick rimmed glasses.

Running my fingers through my dark shoulder length curls one last time, I can't help but smile at my reflection in the mirror. Smile at the brilliant and resilient woman staring back at me. I've worked my ass off my whole academic career, all the way from kindergarten to med school, to get to this moment. And I'll be damned if it doesn't go how I always dreamed it would.

A soft rap on the bathroom doorframe tears me away from my thoughts, and I turn to see my momma standing in the doorway. She's also dressed up for the occasion, wearing a forest green dress with quarter length sleeves that complements her warm, golden skin tone. She gives me a soft, meaningful smile, already knowing I'm freaking out in my head. "Ready?"

I let out a shaky breath, flashing her a weary smile. "As ready as I'll ever be."

She extends her hand out to me and I instinctively place my hand in hers, savoring her touch and physical comfort.

Since moving away to college for both undergrad and medical school, I haven't been able to see my family much. Especially when I moved all the way to the west coast for med school. At least in undergrad I was only a five hour drive away from home—four and a half if I sped—so I could go back home every once in a while. But med school only allowed me to go back home and visit my family on major holidays. So to say I've missed my momma would be a huge understatement. And I'm super grateful her and my daddy were both able to fly out to be with me on my special day. Not that they'd ever miss it for the world.