The Train Ride To My Future
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The 25th of February… The dooms day of all dooms days. This is the day of the interview. My interview. This is the day of my very existence. The day my future depends on. The day my future is determined. On this day… On the 25th of February. What an interesting day this is doing to be. Crap! I am so nervous. My heart is beating out of my chest. I can feel it in my veins see it in my wrist. The beating increases and becomes more intense. It cannot relax just as I cannot relax. I am nervous and I am scared. My stomach is given me a run for my money. I don’t have butterflies or the feeling of knots, which by now I would give anything to switch this for… no. Instead it feels like I have some deadly caterpillars about to burst. These caterpillars aren’t just slimy they are acidic burning my stomach. The spikes on their backs are piercing the inside of my stomach. I cling to my stomach hoping to escape the pain.
I am sitting here on the train in the last cabin of the train towards Manchester Piccadilly, in the seat 29A. It is dead quiet. All you can hear is the beating of my heart. I try to breath in and out quietly not to disturb anyone but my attempts are pathetic and sound like I have just run the marathon. This is the quiet cabin they keep pointing out in the speakers. Gosh I am making a fool out of myself… sorry I just cannot control my heart. Maybe I’m hungry? Did I eat anything this morning? Great this is what comes to mind… Food. As usually. Good to see I am still fairly human tho. I think I might be sick. No. I turn around in my seat look out the little window on the beautiful English countryside that is passing me by while I sit here and panic. Relax. I have done this before. But that was different. I was different. Nothing bad had happened to me. Now my world has scattered to pieces and I am just start to stand again. Am I still going to be as fun loving as I usually am. The Train is slowing down I guess its my station soon. I take a deep breath and gather my things. I am at Stroke on Trent now.
It looks cozy here. A little town at the heart of England as it says on the posters. Perhaps unknown and forgotten by many, but this could be home. The small town houses with the blue and red doors. The ever green English country side that stretches more than the eye can see. Sounds lovely doesn’t it. Now I just have to find the bus. The station wasn’t very big so I didn’t get lost. Yuppie. But where do you get the tickets for the bus. Where is the information booth? Ticket sales? Anything? I’m already outside and there is my bus stop. 100meters away. I am starting to wonder if I am totally insane to stress so much before hand. My stomach burns reminding me that stress is good its normal. In only 3 hours I will be in the interview room. I feel the stress level rising my stomach burns sharply reminding me yet again that I am panicking. All I want to do is lie on the floor. Hide somewhere. just disappear for a hour or two. Breath.
I am on the bus. You could get the tickets on the bus. God I feel silly. The bus rolls on I sit at the edge of my seat practically staring out the window. There are no streets names in the bus, ill have to take a guess. Great. I’m lost. My head is spinning. I can’t concentrate. I’m trying to read through some current events that I printed before I left for England. So much happens in medicine it’s a constantly changing and evolving. How can I remember all this details now? But that’s why I like it. The reason I like medicine. It’s never the same as the day before and the future is unknown. All I know is this is what I want. This is my dream. But as am starting at some typical medical questions I start worrying again. Why do I want to be a doctor? I don’t know. Why not a nurse? I don’t know. What do you think of the NHS today? The NHS? Who would you be in history? I don’t know.
Im almost there…I think. Im not ready. Why keele? Why should we want you? I don’t know. I don't know.
I only hope. . . Im here.
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