At this moment in time Chris was ready to switch the lights off and lay in his bed for eternity. If he could just close his eyes and sleep maybe he would wake-up to find that he didn’t have to sit an exam tomorrow. He knew this was wishful thinking and that he would have to accept the truth: there was no room for manoeuvre, not unless he could come-up with life-threatening mitigating circumstances before tomorrow.
He sat at his desk, staring at the explosion of papers which were covered with scribbles and medical words. Some had coffee stains and Chris has to brush off crisps crumbs from his stack of text books. He stared at them from behind his glasses and hoped that he could absorb the words, diagrams and diagnoses that he couldn’t even spell without getting a headache. Perhaps another break would help, because right now the words on the page in front of him made as much sense as the his future aspirations.
Edging the hair away from the desk, Chris dragged himself up and trudged to the kitchen. It was 12.00pm and, while he was gradually loosing the will the to live, his housemates had finished their exams early. For them, parties, the pub and late nights, filled with pleasure, was on the horizon. Chris switched on the kettle and leaned against the worktop, with hair sticking out in random clumps and a t-shirt that was in desperate need of a deep clean. He rubbed his chin and yawned. Every lecture and lab session had been attended this term, and yet revision was… difficult… unbearable?
It never felt like this during first or second year. The thing was that things had changed this year. Within in himself, it felt like something had rearranged things around ,and from the depths of his exhausted body there was a roar. His parents had been so sure that medicine was the right thing to do. All of his siblings were in the medical profession, so Chris went along with it. It felt right, but perhaps that was a lie.Chris folded his arms across his stomach and creased his eyebrows. Nothing was right about it. He never had a choice in any of this, Or maybe he ignored that subtle nudge and the intangible arrow beckoning him to lead the way for once.
The kettle clicked as it reached boiling point. Chris dropped a teabag in his cup, poured the water and then some milk. He stirred and stirred until the tea made dizzying circles. He was struck by a thought that had been forming in his mind for months: he did not want to work in a hospital.
He did not wish to work as a doctor.