"Seriously."
Chapter 1
(Meredith's POV):
All aspiring surgeons enter their first year of internship with a journey ahead of them; not one person can prepare themselves for what the next 5 years hold. Just like every journey you take there are bumps in the road, those bumps in the road are made to tell us to slow down, to stop and to think. After those distractions along the way you either pick up where you let off, or you are in a position where you only have yourself to blame.
During medical school you are taught what you need to know, a hemothorax is a condition that occurs from blood accumulating in the pleural cavity; how to diagnosis appendicitis, and that an aneurism is a balloon like bulge in the wall of a blood vessel. You spend years learning about the medical world from symptoms to procedures, therefore you enter your internship ready to tackle whatever is thrown at you, not realising that the struggles in your personal life are about to reach a whole new level... -
Today was 19th July 2005. A load alerting noise repeatedly filled the empty house that I was now calling home, it was 6am and my alarm clock was signalling for me to drag my ass out of bed and prepare myself for a long and tiring day. Making a good impression is always a key when starting a completely new job; however it is even more significant when this can sculpt your career for the rest of your life. I was new to the city of Seattle and to say that I knew no one was not even an exaggeration, I was completely alone in this big city.
After a refreshing shower and quick breakfast slot, I began my short journey to Seattle Grace Hospital. My life was at this hospital for the next 5 years and to be a surgeon a main characteristic is to be determined to make it to the highest possible role and have a passion for the job. Today, I joined a group of hopeful interns who are exactly like me.
I was far too early for rounds. Interns have a designated locker room to keep all their personal belongings during their shifts at the hospital, to waste time I decided to empty my bag and decide what I could leave in my locker. I scurried through my bag pulling out several pieces of paper when I came across a small scruffy piece of scrap paper with "Call me ***********" scribbled across in beautiful italic handwriting. My mind worked frantically trying to recall events from the past few weeks, several flashbacks entered my mind until I finally remembered that night from 6 days ago, it was 'him'...