Pulse of Desire (English)

Prologue

The music blares through the auditorium, blending in with the echoing laughter of the groups around me. My classmates, squeezed into tight suits, blouses, and dresses, stand with their families, laughing loudly while holding flowers and balloons.

So, this is it. Years of sweat, tears, and frustration, all for this moment, - I'm thinking to myself as I push myself down the stairs through the crowd of our big lecture hall.

Graduation day—the day everyone has been eagerly waiting for. My gaze sweeps over the crowd, fixing on their expressions and trying to read their feelings, diagnosing them like disease. A skill every good doctor should have, in my opinion. They're laughing in relief, some crying at the thought of separating and leaving, hugging each other tightly and holding on to each other as if there was no tomorrow. Somehow, I thought I'd be more emotional too. That I'd at least feel happy or maybe look back on this time with some melancholy. But no, instead, I only feel one thing: the overwhelming urge to finally get out of here and never come back.

It's strange. I've achieved more than I ever dared to dream—youngest high school graduate, acceptance into my dream university, youngest graduate of my class, a scholarship, top marks in all exams—and yet, I feel noting but empty. My achievements may justify my presence here, but I still don't feel like I truly belong here. And I definitely don't fit in. At first, nobody even noticed me, or I'm so unimportant that they simply ignore me. But as soon as I stand out in class or during our internships, suddenly they know who I am. I become the weird overachiever, but nothing more. It doesn't earn me anything except sideways glances and angry whispers.

>> Camilla! << The voice of our dean cuts through the murmuring crowd and reaches me just as I'm trying to slip out unnoticed through the exit behind the podium.>> Fuck...<< I curse under my breath and turn toward him with a forced smile. I had hoped to disappear from this ceremony without any awkward thank-yous or small talk. Honestly, I wouldn't have even shown up if the diploma ceremony wasn't happening today and I'm not going to have any time to pick it up at another time.

"Dean Berverath," I mutter through gritted teeth.

"I just wanted to ask if everything went smoothly with your application to the Mayo Clinic. After all, it was the first time for me to recommend a student there, and I had to follow up. We're, of course, extremely proud that one of our students made it into their selection program." He tucks one hand into his jacket, takes a large sip of his mimosa, and grins at me, proudly. Instantly, my guilty conscience pushes aside my annoyed thoughts, and I feel bad for being so rude.

"I really need to thank you, Dean. The application process was incredibly elaborate, and without your support, I wouldn't have made it. But yes, everything worked out—I've received the acceptance and already have my visa. I'm flying to Minnesota next Monday." Saying it out loud feels surreal. The Mayo Clinic—the best diagnostic hospital in the world, with the toughest residency program. It was a distant and very naive childhood dream of mine. When my mentor in the scholarship program offered to help me apply, it was one of the happiest moments of my life. Since only professors can nominate someone for the program, and the dean, along with two other professors, had to write letters of recommendation and assessments, I've been in close contact with them over the past few weeks. They were all very kind and supportive, for which I'm truly grateful, because I know it took them a lot of time and cannot be taken for granted.

So, I suppress my instinct to immediately piss of. I chat with the dean and the other professors who join us. They share anecdotes from their own residency days and tell stories they've heard about the Mayo Clinic. Champagne corks pop, family photos are taken, and the sweet smell of cake and a sense of departure fills the air. The moment my professors get caught up in another conversation, I immediately take the opportunity and quietly slip away.

The cold autumn wind whips across my face as I head toward the subway. One last time, I turn around and glance at the massive hospital building and the groups of students gathered in front of the lecture hall entrance.

Goodbye, dear hospital! Farewell nevermore, you rich kids and snobs!