The days in internal medicine followed a relentless rhythm. Every morning I arrived before seven, sitting at the nurse station with stacks of patient charts piled in front of me. Vital signs, lab results, X-rays, nurses’ notes, I had to skim them quickly before rounds began.After that, I trailed behind the residents and attending as they made their way through the ward. Patients with heart failure, stroke, pneumonia one after another became the subject of discussion. I scribbled furiously in my notebook, trying not to miss a single detail. Sometimes I grew nervous when it was my turn to present, but I forced my voice to stay steady.By midday, I was often trapped in the records room, copying test results or drafting new patient charts. At night, I was back at my desk in the apartment, poring over textbooks and trying to recall every instruction the residents had given me.That day, after finishing a round of charting, I leaned back in my chair for just a moment. Suddenly, a sharp kno
Last Updated : 2025-09-24 Read more