The Hard Year · Second Shift · Pulse Beat
The second year was the worst. Biochemistry, pathology, pharmacology. Her old notebook, Night 1,142, had been a gentle companion; the new volumes were not. She studied from five in the morning to…
The second year was the worst.
Biochemistry, pathology, pharmacology. Her old notebook, Night 1,142, had been a gentle companion; the new volumes were not. She studied from five in the morning to midnight. She ate on the move. She lost weight, and then gained it, and then lost it again. Her mother, who had never complained, began leaving food outside her door, on a steel plate under a cloth.
In November she failed a pharmacology test. It was the first failure of her life, a 41 percent, circled in red. She sat on the bench outside the department, with the paper in her hand, in a cold, bright morning, and felt the whole seven-year edifice sway.
Dr Menon, who had come to give a visiting lecture, found her there. "Failed something?"
"Pharmacology."
"Ah." He sat beside her. "Everyone fails pharmacology. I failed it twice." He took the paper, glanced at it, handed it back. "Fatima. Do you know the difference between the people who finish and the ones who don't?"
"No."
"The ones who finish go home and do the next day's work."