CHAPTER 3 MEETING THE PROS
AIFE
Before I knew it, it was Thursday. Thursdays were the busiest day of my week.
I worked 8-4 then ran to the one lecture class I had left, and it lasted three hours.
By the time I made it home, I really only had time for a shower and to sleep.
Thursdays also happened to be the days when my floor in the hospital went nuts.
Everyone had something seemingly go awry on Thursdays, but my bosses knew I absolutely had to be out of the door at four.
Thankfully, they were understanding just like my work partner was.
Julia was my work partner, a nurse case manager who previously had fifteen years of pediatric nursing experience.
She was everything I could have asked for in a partner, especially when my partner from Houston was insanely talented.
I was so thankful to have her. She was smart, funny, and the type of crazy that I loved.
After inputting one final note, I quickly grabbed my bag and ran for my car.
The only thing I didn’t like about this job was that I had to pay for parking.
In Houston, only medical center workers had to pay, so it was a concept I hated.
Why should I have to pay to park at work?
Those thoughts consumed me until I arrived at the university…
which was yet another place I had to pay to park.
Rushing, I slightly jogged to my classroom and found my seat next to Davis.
Davis had quickly become a best friend, just like Dre and Nat had.
They reminded me of Southern people. I always thought Northerners were supposed to be assholes, but those three had shattered my illusions.
I smiled at my blond friend as I settled into my seat and pulled out my notepad.
“There’s another game on Sunday if you’re down,”
Davis said, bringing a cup of coffee to his mouth.
Davis was probably the most athletic person I knew,
and he looked like it too. He was around six feet with a buzzed blond head.
He had muscles, but they were lean instead of bulky.
My favorite feature of Davis’s, though, were his dark green eyes.
He was a fairly good-looking dude. But I hadn’t moved to Illinois for men; I’d moved for my career.
That had to be my sole focus. I couldn’t change the medical world if I allowed myself to get distracted.
Besides, Davis was like a brother and had a huge thing for Nat.
“I’m down. Playing the undergrads again?” Davis smirked as he set down his coffee. “No.
Jefferson said in order for the game to be fair, it would be student athletes this time.”
Confusion hit me. “Was the last game not fair?”
“The Carter boys take competitive to new heights.
He underestimated our skills, especially yours. Much like his idiotic older brother, Jeff has to win.”
“How do you know them anyway?” I asked on a chuckle. Davis said everything so matter of factly, it sometimes made me laugh.
He rubbed his chin for a bit. “I met Jefferson through Zeke. Zeke, TJ, and I all played hockey together at this university weirdly enough. We just clicked at our first practice. I’ve got brothers, but TJ and Zeke would undoubtedly take a bullet for me. To be fair, I would do the same for them.
I never told you this?”
“That you played hockey?” That probably shouldn’t have shocked me as much as it did. He really was a freak of nature, and he had a talent for every sport.
“Remind me how many sports you do,” he teased as our professor walked in. “To be continued, Gomez.”
Three hours and four pages of notes later, Davis walked me to my car.
That was probably the number one reason he reminded me of Texans—his kindness.
People in Texas were kind but not always nice.
Essentially, a Texan would change your tire while berating you for not knowing how to change your tire.
A well placed ‘bless your heart’ would get me every time.
I found the north to usually be the opposite: nice but not kind. It made me miss Houston.
“So, game will be at ten on Sunday. Same place as before,” Davis said as we reached my car.
“Okay, sounds good.” I offered a smile. “You’ll let me know when you’re home?”
Nodding, he headed off to his car. I jumped in mine and took off to my place.
My mentor had sent edits for my intro, and I would need to work on the edits and an additional section this weekend.
I was meant to graduate in August which meant I’d have to defend my dissertation in July.
My writing timeline was very strict. Thankfully, I loved to do it. Writing was my happy place.
Yawning, I entered my apartment. It was messy, in the worst way.
Papers, clothes, and old takeout covered nearly every surface.
If I wasn’t so tired, my disgust would have forced me to clean.
As it was 9PM though, a hot shower and my bed were the only things on my mind.
Popping my neck, I stripped and entered my equally messy bedroom.
Without sparing a second glance, I turned on music and began to scrub the day away.
As I washed my hair, I let my brain wander.
Some of my best writing came in the shower, and I knew ideas would be more frequent as I wrote more of my dissertation.
The heavy drums burrowed into my head as I thought of the realities women faced in a medical setting.
My entire social work career had been focused on this, and it was part of the reason I worked in a hospital.
On average, it took women five years to achieve a diagnosis unless it was cancer.
Frequently, women’s pain was chalked up to depression, hysteria, conversion disorder, or some other mental illness.
At the same time, mental illness was often dismissed. It sickened me.
I turned the water off and reached for a towel.
I wanted my paper to cover several sections of common assigned female at birth illnesses: poly-cystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS), endometriosis, fibromyalgia, multiple sclerosis (MS), pineal cysts, and more.
I wanted to talk more about women not being believed by medical professionals and how draining that could be, but I wanted to talk about solutions most of all.
Pulling pajamas on, I climbed into my bed and flicked off my lights.
The medical system needed an overhaul, and I was willing to do it, my mind running through a million more medical reasons.
Time sailed by. It was already two on a Friday, and I felt like I still had a billion things to do. Neurology was always like that though. Stroke patients were just like that; they needed so much attention. Brains were delicate. I didn’t mind usually, but I hadn’t even had lunch yet.
“Aife, honey, go eat,” Julia said, taking some packets from me. “You cannot function without food.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I wouldn’t argue with her. I sat my binder down and grabbed Nat, heading toward the cafeteria. Nat was already texting Dre to meet us there.
“Today’s been crazy.” Nat pushed the elevator button harshly. “Like, good Lord. I’m so glad I’ve got the next three days off.”
I nodded. “Today’s trying to kill me. I love my neuro patients, but sometimes their family members make me want to rip my hair out.” We entered the elevator. “Oh, I’m playing soccer on Sunday. Do you and Dre wanna come watch?”
“Will there be cute boys?” Nat asked. She brushed a hand down her scrubs, smoothing out wrinkles that weren’t there. It was a nervous tick of hers; her anxiety masked on her face.
“Sure, and Davis will be there too.” The elevator dinged, and we caught sight of Dre’s puffballs. She interlocked our arms together, practically dragging us to the food.
“What we talking about?” Dre asked.
“A soccer game,” Nat said quietly. “Davis will be there.”
Dre and I exchanged a knowing look. We both knew the two liked each other, but they refused to admit it. “On Sunday?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I looked over my food options. “Sunday morning.”
“Ugh. You’re lucky I love you. We’ll be there so Nat can ogle Davis’s ass.” Dre laughed and poked our friend’s cheek.
Nat turned a deep shade of red. “Knock it off.”
“Never.” They stuck their tongues out at each other.
I couldn’t help the smile that was on my face. These two were truly my best friends, and I was so glad I’d met them. They made my life better and more fun.
We quickly purchased our food and gobbled it up,
talking about various topics. After our last bites, we rushed back to the floors. Hospitals required lots of work, but I did love it. Fast paced was my middle name. Just a few more hours, and I could go home and write.
I eased myself onto my couch and pulled my notebook toward me.
Time to get writing and editing. My intro was essentially done, minus the edits I needed to complete.
Really, I needed to start on my outline.
Once I could complete that, the writing would flow.
My dissertation was going to be a monograph—a book.
It would be roughly between 100-200 pages.
I wanted to dedicate a number of chapters to disorders and then some on the treatment of women, mental illness, diagnosing, insurance, and then solutions.
The first chapter I wanted to tackle was going to be about the average length of time it took for women to receive a diagnosis.
There was quite a bit of detail I needed to include, and this would of course mean research.
I loved that part, a smile creeping onto my face at the thought.
Grabbing my laptop, I began my research. To help,
I popped ear buds in and blasted my beautiful metal music.
Some found it horrible and grating, but metal soothed me.
For me, there was nothing more relaxing than some Slipknot, Avenged Sevenfold, and Metallica.
They just made me happy. The smile never left my face as I stumbled down my research rabbit hole.
Some of the articles I found really upset me and that only fueled my passion for my paper.
The medical system seemingly hated women; the world thrived on misogynism.
It was harmful and wrong; it needed to be changed.
After about two hours, I’d finally found enough research material to truly start the meat and potatoes of my dissertation.
The one thing I would have to remember was not to let my anger get the better of me.
So much of this paper was a little too close to home, and I absolutely could not let it get to me.
My jaw clenched just thinking about my own trauma.
My music paused as my phone rang. Quickly, I answered my phone as I added another bullet point to my outline. “Yeah?”