I’m tired and stressed.
I’ve reached the point where there’s stuff that I really do need to cover (cholesterol and muscle contraction, for two), and then there is other stuff that I have gone over twice or three times and really should know and probably *do* know but am not actually convinced that I know it, and that is making me freak out.
Apart from the girl who does the evening shift in Starbucks and a five minute conversation with my mother every night, I have not actually had contact with people who aren’t medics since last Sunday morning. I am hoping like hell that church tomorrow morning will improve my mood.
I had a moment, earlier on. I was sitting in my carrel and it all just got too much and I had to go and sit out in the stairwell and have a cry to myself. In the last two months, I’ve had maybe four days and another five evenings where I haven’t done any work, but, besides that, I have been going flat-out since Easter Monday and I want this to be *over*.
And if I don’t pass…
There is nothing shameful about doing resits. There is nothing wrong with things not going exactly the way you planned them. Really, take it from someone who did medicine by the scenic route — cocking up my A-levels was one of the best things that ever happened to me.
But this year, I don’t know what I’ve got left to give. I don’t know if I can keep going for another nine weeks.
I just want to be a third year.