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Life has its strange ways with people. Throughout my twenty-one years of life I've learnt some things, I've watched.
I've always been interested in human behavior. Although my preference is medicine, I personally think philosophy, anthropology, psychoanalysis, and biology -medicine, overall-, are tightly connected. From all the information my mother has -unintentionally- transmitted to me, there's this theory of human species' classification she has always talked about. It consisted in three simple groups:
The dolls: they're the ones who have better luck than others, you know, everything works annoyingly perfect in their lives, like some sort of hideous Hollywood movie. You see, their lives are so solved that they take it all for granted, and soon enough they'll find themselves completely empty. They're basically a huge Barbie brand.
The wrecks: people who have to deal with the fact that they are toys. Life likes to play dodgeball with them. They accept that they've been born with some kind of spell that makes everything go exactly the opposite way they wanted it to be, and therefore, try too hard -harder than everyone you'd know- to fight it. To win.
And then there's the Avoiders: the type of individual who thinks they're bulletproof and just get 'comfortable' with whatever life wants to throw at them. Nothing seems to affect them, yet everything does. Still, they avoid it.
You could say that I'm an avoider-wreck since I am an unlucky mix between those two.
Part of being a surgeon is treating people. You spend more time with your patient -conscious or not- that you sometimes do with your own family. And I was well aware of that the moment I firmly decided to submit my applications to med school.
You need to learn from people's behavior in order to be a great doctor. Your job doesn't end when the suture is finished, or when the heart rate has flatlined. It does when you send the family home at peace, thankful with you for being able to give someone one more shot at life. Or when they go home to grieve, anger and injustice running through their bodies, guilt and prepotency filling your own, always blaming yourself, thinking about how you should've done more to save your patient's life.
I stared at my half-finished coffee, adjusting myself into a more comfortable position on the chair of the little café I was currently in.
Dolls are the people you should always be more careful with when delivering bad news. They're the most fragile of them all. At least that's what my mother used to say.
Funny thing, she is a doll herself. I'm still debating on whether she is aware of it or not.
In the middle of my subconsciously perpetuated human-behavioral analysis, my eyes gained attention on something else. Well, not something, but someone. A fit figure sitting not so far from my current position. My heart skipped a beat. I became nervous and tried to convince myself that this reaction was due to me being sure I've seen him before. I just didn't know where or when. He looked incredibly familiar.
Not to mention how I was intentionally ignoring the fact that he was Greek-god looking. He had this perfectly laid back, black hair you even feel envious of, curly and messy, yet still somehow elegant, a jaw that could cut me into pieces, rewarding him with an air of mysteriousness. Oh and his eyes. Those profound dazzling blue eyes... I had definitely seen him before.
I stared at him shamelessly. Everything about him screamed dark. He was wearing a black sweater that hugged his broad shoulders and muscled arms perfectly, along with navy blue denim jeans.
My eyes darted to the book laying open on his table. The oncology manual.
My insides tingled at his reading choice.
«He's into med?»
He seemed too old to be a student, so that's definitely not why I felt like I've met him.
I tried rummaging through my brain to see if I was able to find any trace of his face from the day I went to visit my -soon to be- med-school for the first time. It consisted of a day to familiarize with the college's environment, a lot of students from all grades and majors along with some professors were present.
And yet I couldn't place his features in any of those newly known people.
I remembered how nervous I was when I sent my application to Cooley's university, how anxious I had been for four whole months -it had been a martyrdom- and then how excited I had felt when I read they had accepted me. I'll never forget how that feels. Freedom, fear. It's wonderful, really. You feel a cycle closing and another one starting from scratch. Being in med-school seemed something so unreal, so far from reality, yet here I was, just a few hours away from starting.
My eyes snapped from their little daydream as they focused once again to the handsome stranger.
«Who are you?»
He was completely absorbed by the words on the text he was reading, being entirely oblivious to the rest of the world besides him. It was a beautiful sight.
He must have noticed me checking him out, because I felt his eyes snap upwards, burning holes into my skull. I looked up to meet his gaze. My breath hitched as his orbs bored into mine. His stare transmitted pure intensity-and mysteriousness. He just smiled at me and I swear I felt my body go weak. His stare ran from my face to the table I was sitting at, noticing the book I've been holding in my hands this entire time.
I was trying not to study. My first day was going to be in less than 48 hours and I was freaking out. So instead of reading about what we'd be taught in our first semester, I was reading a neuroscience book.
I know, you might think I am a freak because I consider that reading about human brains isn't studying, but for me it wasn't.
Neuro was my comfort zone. There's just something so beautiful about learning how us -the human spices- work. Without our nervous system, we are nobody. It defines, shapes, directs and controls everything we are and do. It's so complicated, so vital, and yet so unsolved.
The mysteriously hot looking man found himself in awe of my book preference, and gave me this breathtaking smirk which had my cardiac rhythm raising. In consequence, I grabbed my book tightly and just got back to my reading.
Best avoiding system, right?
"Excuse me," A cute voice distracted me from my pull towards the unknown man. "do you maybe happen to not feel like finishing that pretzel? I am really hungry." I looked up, only to find an adorable little boy. He didn't look older than nine years old. Freckles were sprawled along his tiny face and golden curls fell from his forehead.
What caught my attention was that he wasn't wearing normal clothes, but a white hospital robe.
"Hey there buddy." I said, closing the book I was holding and placing it on the table. "What's your name?" I then remembered his question. "And don't worry, I'm not hungry. You can have my pretzel if you want, but first you'll have to explain why you are wearing those clothes." I finished, smiling.
"I'm Jack." He said giving me the most heartwarming, toothless smile. "I'll tell you, but promise you won't tell my mom."
"Alright. Promise." I stood out my pinky for him to twist. He looked at me unsure to finally take my pinky offer.
"I'm not supposed to be here. I'm having surgeray in a couple of hours," he started while struggling with the word 'surgery.' "But they won't let me eat and I'm really hungry." He complained, forming a small pout with his lips. "They say that surgeray is like going to sleep, and I'm always hungry before I go to bed. I'll get back as soon as I eat, I promise." He said, making a sad face.
«What? He shouldn't be here.»
"Jack, it's really dangerous for you to be here." I started as worry filled my body. His parents must be going crazy. Just imagine your kid go missing, the awful feeling of desperation. Now do the same exercise, but with a kid that's about to go under surgery. "Plus, they won't let you eat for a reason. It's medical rules, you can't eat before some surgeries." The kid seemed disappointed to know he wasn't going to get food anytime soon. "I'm so sorry bud, but I can't give you my pretzel."
He stared at me with his big brown eyes, making the most perfect puppy face on earth.
He got me.
I sighed. "Hey, how about this." I started, thinking about the suggestion I was about to make. "Let me take you back to the hospital, your parents must be very worried about you. And when you get out of surgery, I'll go visit you and bring you as many pretzels as you want." I offered.
He stared at me, thinking about whether he believed me or not.
As he opened his mouth to answer something snapped in his eyes as his face got pale, acquiring the shade of snow, draining the light from his tiny irides. "Promis-"
That's all he managed to get out of his lips before collapsing. I found myself being incredibly grateful for the amount of years I had spent playing volleyball, it made my reactions pretty quick, and now I had just saved this kid from slamming his head against the ground.
"Help!" I yelled. Every single person at the coffee shop started to surround me one by one, soon forming a crowd of shocked, unhelpful and nervous talking people.
I was sweating.
«I need help, what's up with all these people? Are they paralyzed or something? Do their brains work properly? I've got a fainted kid in my arms!»
I finally felt a pair of hands helping me carry the child, lifting all of his weight from my arms. I wasn't able to form a 'thank you' in my mouth before he spoke.
"We don't have time to call an ambulance. There's a hospital just down the street. Let's go."
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