my average self ! do you really have time to be looking down?

November 5th, 23:58

Dear Lenin,

“I don’t wanna talk about things we’ve gone through, though it’s hurting me, now it’s history…”

ABBA’s song plays softly in the background for a very sensational reason, me, typing this letter on my laptop. The ambiance is warmly lit; Loulou, the big cat, rests a few meters away, feeding Kiwi, her four-day-old kitten. Beside her, the electric heater works hard to keep me normothermic.

I was in bed, all ready to sleep, greedy for ease, wanting to soothe the migraine, to hush the guilt-trapping voices shouting in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, begging them to drift into a state of physiologic unconsciousness. But do you listen, there!

“The winner takes it all, the loser standing small…”

These words are haunting me, my dear.

I fail'ed, I fall, I felt.

Oh my dear Lenin, 'here', I point toward my heart and say again, 'exactly here', it hurts.

I am awake now. I’m out of bed. I’m not hiding from my somatic pain, proving that it is all sensational.

I left.

Dear lenin,

"Debout! " Je me chuchote avec ton echo dans ma tete .

October 13th | The aftermath | n+1 day.

Dearest Lenin,

By Allah's boundless mercy, it was made possible and only through that grace did we achieve it.

Do you feel it, Lenin? The tremble of joy?!

October 9th| Immunofluorescence | 3 days.

Dear Lenin,

These days are being tough on me, yet I smile at them most often, thinking maybe they’ll soften.

Should I harden instead? Crystallize? -Sclerosis: irreversible damage-

I’ve never played tennis before, and now I’ve lost my tennis ball too. Good reasons to cry all over, right?

I’ve got to open my eyes—they’re burning, but no onion rings in sight! I’ve got to open my eyes. It’s almost over.

October 6th| Drawer sign | 6 days

Dear Lenin,

So many letters remain in the drawer, never reaching you.

When I sat down to begin today’s session, realizing it was orthopedics on my plate for the third day in a row, I couldn’t hold back the tears. With less than a week left, I felt so behind. But the moment didn’t last long—I was quickly reminded of teardrop fractures of the thoracolumbar spine. I had to review those again. Teardrops everywhere... perhaps I shouldn’t feel so lonely.

The day isn’t over yet, but I miss writing to you. You remember me Lenin, for the letters are still waiting in the drawer, hoping to find you.

September 28th| Collision | 14 days.

Dear Lenin,

In the quiet of this night, I realize there was no day to tell you about.

Funny how it’s so simply said, and simply portrayed. knowing that all it takes is a decision not to hold yourself back from reaching high, stretching your hand with your fingertips trembling, with every muscle straining just to grasp the grapes. Funny how, even when it’s that simple, I find myself standing still—like the harm blocking my own path, reminded of when our Prophet ﷺ said: "And removing harm from the road is an act of almsgiving."

September 27th | Collimation, "to direct in a straight line" | 15 days.

Dear Lenin,

Remember the "Scavengers Reign" I mentioned in yesterday’s letter? It turned out to be a true animation with stunning visuals. Biochemistry thought it would be a good distraction, though I can’t help but doubt the timing. Plus, who would’ve thought I’d end a lecture on lipoproteins with a series recommendation?

On a brighter note, I did finish reviewing radiology.

September 26th | Blank | 16 days

Dear Lenin,

Today was one of those days where door handles fall hopelessly in love with your T-shirt. Familiar with the type, right? At some point, I had to intervene and actually talk to a door handle! It turned out to be much less of a bad experience than expected—apparently, they listen. Apparently, we’re the only ones deaf in this whole worldly life.

Well, speaking of door handles and their attitudes, I somehow found it metaphorically fitting to relate them to a receptor-ligand interaction, and, oh Lenin, there’s not much you can do about that. So, the story goes as follows: there’s this special type of cell receptor called scavengers. In fact, they form a big family of receptors—a "scavengers reign" (not a science fiction animation series, but rather a nonfiction science thing). Each receptor can bind to a variety of ligands—just like that door handle, falling for different shirts! They call it a multi-ligand receptor. The difference, though, between a scavenger receptor on a macrophage that keeps snagging damaged LDL and that door handle loving my black T-shirt is that the former never stops. And eventually, you end up with fat clustering in places it doesn’t belong.

Lenin, today felt hopeless! But with all that's happening in the world, this letter couldn’t help but be hopeful. Pray for the people, Lenin, and maybe then, remember me!

September 25th| Xa-ban, bound morpheme | 17 days.

Dear Lenin,

Today, I tackled a bunch of practice questions and vignettes and went through some cardiovascular pharmacology. I’ve got to be as efficient as those ACE inhibitors- they ACE!

September 24th | Hang in there| 18 days.

Dear Lenin,

I’m not quite sure how it all started-this ritual of mine. Taking a vitamin B complex pill, chased with a huge cup of water, and then holding onto a moment of pure silence, as if I exist only within that single breath of time. Who would think that something as terrible-tasting as this pill could evoke the feeling of a deep, contented exhalation—before it’s even absorbed! As I swallow the pill, I’m reminded that B1 deficiency is another sword that strips the heart of its strength, added to a million others.

After reviewing my share of histology, I found myself ear to auricle, listening to one heart after another, conducting each their reasons for surrender. Hearts never give up easily; hence, you never rush to replace a diseased aortic valve as a first line of protection. What you do is wait and see, counting with every ounce of hope on that one lonely heart to fight and protect itself.

I tell my heart not to give up on me, and you tell it too, Lenin—it listens to you.

September 23rd | "function dictates shape" | 19 days.

Dear Lenin,

I feel the stress throbbing in my abdominal aorta. It’s definitely there. I keep thinking about the outcomes, about the self I’ll be in less than 20 days, and then I get overloaded with the pressure of doubts. I build my concentric walls as a heart would do, repeating, for the hundred and thirty-seventh time, “Don’t feel discouraged!”

You can probably guess I’m still deep in cardiology; otherwise, this letter would have begun with a triumphant “I finished cardio, lub dub drumroll!”

September 22nd| Rumors | 20 days.

Dear Lenin,

A thought has been tangling in my mind today: "Them happy, I happy." I found myself humming through it, just as one might while strolling through a castle garden. Who doesn’t love humming, right? It’s funny how little gratitude we show towards our magnificent vocal cords.

Hear me out, Lenin! I know I can do better—deep down, I know. I just know.

I’ve only just begun the cardiovascular unit. Do you think I’ll make it through to cardiology? In a perfect world, I would. But what is perfect anyway? The only perfect balance I can envision is the Hardy-Weinberg equilibrium.

Pray with me, Lenin, that the rumors are true.

September 21st| Clock | 21 days.

Dear Lenin,

You could blame it on the pigeon, the late letter, and I could balme it on my auntie’s visit for my insipid study day. But we both know the pigeon, as effective as ever,he can solely be, so let the blame be upon me and let us hold onto sincerity.

Thanks to Esma’s inquiry and our discussion about preterm labor and third-trimester bleeding, I touched upon some gynecology and obstetrics. I definitely need to review more of that for the sake of every woman I will see. After that, I skimmed through some hematology questions until my eyes closed on me.