My year as an Intern had a lot of strange occurrences, some surreal, some dramatic, and some out of a fantasy book.
It was another day of summer. Hot, humid, and itchy. The ER didn’t have an air conditioning system at the time. They told us, interns, that there was a problem with the electric circuitry that didn’t allow for an air conditioner.
And because the hospital was right next to the local peasant market, mosquitoes and other blood-sucking vampires were a fact of life.
Your average intern would suffer from anemia before their internship was over. They got the ridiculously symbolic pay that’s not enough for transportation, they miss the lunch and sometimes diner at the staff cafeteria almost four days of each week, and generational swarms of vampiric bugs find their blood Gourmet meal of the day, week, century.
Did I say that it was hot? It was 115 f or 46 C, and humidity was around 85%. I was sticky, sweaty, tired, and I was about to snap at the next person who calls me “Teacher, or Mr. Mechanic.” I already happened nine times since 8:00 P.M, till that point at midnight.
You would think that the white coat, the stethoscope dangling from your neck, and the fact that you stood in a hospital would be a giveaway that you might happen to be part of the medical staff. Apparently, not always.
I was alone in the ER, one of my two colleagues was getting married, something that I made the joke of the day for the past month, the other one was, as usual, going for some private work. The resident earlier took a strong sedative to cure his headache and was dead to the world.
It didn’t matter much, I was a veteran of the ER by then. I’ve seen it all, and I survived it, as 99% of my patients did. But legally, an intern should not work without supervision. As if this was even plausible in our haunted, ancient, severely understaffed hospital.
I held a newspaper from the last decade and fanned over my face. The fans were all in the corridor, while the examination area had to manage on air current alone.
Problem was, if I opened the window, the great exodus of the mosquitoes would commence from the market to the hospital, where the promised intern lay in waiting.
The two nurses sneaked out and stood under the nearest fan, which sprayed as much dust as it did air. The orderlies were preparing to skip shift and head for the nearby seedy coffee joint, and the accountant took the position of least resistance by leaning his head at the corner of two walls, preparing for his nightly shift by a few hours of sleep.
I contemplated the idea of visiting the lab, having a chat with the resident pathologist. A strange creature that spends each night wide awake, alone, and actually working! I thought he might need the company, plus he had a working air condition which would ease me into any kind of conversation.
Suddenly, the colleague who went for private work came running to the ER.
“W, why are you back?” I looked at him in confusion.
“Dr. P, called me and told me that there will be an inspection tonight, and as an intern, I risk losing my entire future. Surely, you understand.” Dr. P was our dead to the world resident, and of course, I understood. I also was an intern, and I knew that this very long year, can decide our future.
W hurriedly pulled his white coat from his backpack and put it on. He smoother his hair, which thanks to the humidity, looked like something licked it for a few hours. It was sticking out in all directions, like a porcupine.
I shrugged and went back to fanning myself.
As I reached a decision and stood to give the resident pathologist the grace of joining him in his cold and nice lab, four people rushed to the ER carrying a man.
“Please doctor, he lost consciousness some hour ago, and he is not responding.” The first of the four dumped the man on the waiting seats.
“Take him inside the examination room,” I ordered and followed.
At this late hour, the differential diagnosis of such a case was very wide. To narrow it down, I checked his vitals as fast as could, Normal blood pressure, normal blood sugar, normal breathing, but he has tachycardia (faster than normal heart rate).
“Did he partake in anything recreational?” This was the designated medical intern way to ask if he had too much fun earlier in the night.
“No, nothing.” The first man shook his head. “We were watching a football match and he just collapsed.”
Alright, no drugs, no alcohol, and he was way too young to have a stroke.
“Did anybody upset him or something?” You can’t rule out a psychosomatic manifestation of psychological trauma.
“No, he was laughing and cheering his team just a minute before it happened.” Again, the same man narrowed down my diagnosis.
I called for the nurse to come with the ECG machine, and again, normal.
I started to check his body from head to toe for signs of trauma. You can’t dismiss the possibility of foul play.
He had a strange mark on his neck as if someone gave him a hickey, but when I looked closer, there were four tiny puncture wounds on his neck.
As your recall from my last story, as an intern, I was a pragmatic, science-oriented, atheist at the time. I didn’t believe in anything outside of the realm of science.
I called my colleague W. “Look at those marks and tell me what you think of them.” I knelt by his head and whispered.
He spent almost three minutes looking at the strange marks then stood. “Vampires?”
“Mosquitoes?” I nodded.
“No way.” He shook his head. “This looks like a bite, with four puncture wounds at the place the canines should be.”
“What are you suggesting?” I couldn’t help but grin. “A monster from a movie came and sucked his blood?”
“Who knows? Every myth has a seed of truth.” He shrugged.
I started to laugh hysterically, and the unconscious man’s friends took note.
“Why are laughing like that doctor?” The first man asked with apparent temper.
“Well, according to my colleague, one of you is a descendant of Vlad Tepes.” I stopped laughing.
“Who?”
“Dracula, the prince of darkness? A vampire.” I said with a sigh as I watched the looks of confusion on their faces.
From the second to the fourth man, they turned a shade of blue. The first man though, smiled.
“Ahh.” He nodded. “Then we know how to help our friend.”
They commenced on taking the unconscious man.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? I cried as they lifted the man.
“We will take our friend to the ones who can help him.” The first man answered jovially.
“Like hell, you will.” I stood at the entrance of the examination room, blocking it. “Call security, W.”
W rushed out to call the security.
Now, you have to understand, at the time I was buffed like hell, and I practiced several kinds of martial arts. Plus, I was tall, wide, and looked like a human wall.
The first man, who held one of the legs of the unconscious man pushed me with one hand, and I flew no less than ten feet backward.
“Sorry, doctor, but we have to hurry.” The man nodded an apology. The man who was less than half my width, looked like a scrawny scarecrow on a severe keto diet, just swatted me as you swat a mosquito.
And just like that, they took the man and disappeared.
Vampires? Supernatural beings? Whatever, it was one night that I learned that I was a puny mountain of a man who can be swatted by the flat of a hand.
Did you like this story about my time as an intern? Then check this one out: A true story.
You can check our books as well: Through The Storm, The Green Boy, Red’s Soul, The Eternal Agarthans, The Trinity’s Dream, and our latest book, On The Path of War.