Consider Yourself Lucky
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
MARCH 27, 2009
“Miss Raymond, I’m not sure this is going to work out.”
I look at my advisor with disdain and what is, admittedly, more than an embarrassing amount of embarrassment. So my grades are slipping, so what? There’s no way she could possibly understand what it’s like to be me.
And I didn’t mean to sound like a thirteen-year-old girl whose parents grounded her and took away her ability to watch Dawson’s Creek. And who’s having a bad hair day. Which I am.
But still. She doesn’t get to sit there and tell me this isn’t going to work. Not when she couldn’t get me into the Gross Anatomy lab that I needed to take first semester and her pencil is stuck in her ponytail and she’s wearing Crocs with tube socks.
There’s only room for one embarrassed person in this closet of an office and logically, it should not be me.
Logic doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.
“What do you mean you’re not sure it’s going to work out?” I question. “How isn’t it going to work out?”
“Well, Miss Raymond, you’re at the point where we normally would iron out your course load for next year, but I’m not entirely sure I can recommend that you continue with this path.”
“I don’t care about your recommendation,” I argue. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m failing—I’m not flunking out, I’m just maybe not doing that great, okay? It doesn’t mean you can tell me no. It doesn’t mean you get to say it’s not going to work out.” “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she counters.
“I’m not ashamed.”
“Medical school isn’t for everyone,” she continues. “I’ve had a lot of students come through this office that never even made it as far as you have.”
“Well congratulations to me then,” I remark. “I’m smarter than a lot of students. Tell me something I don’t know. They probably left because they had you for an advisor.”
“There’s no need for that sort of attitude,” she scolds. “I’m trying to help you.”
“No, you’re not,” I disagree. “You’re not trying to help me. You’re trying to get me to quit, and I don’t do that. If you were actually trying to help me, you’d be telling me what I could do to make you stop saying I don’t think it’s going to work out. But you’re not doing that, are you?” I ask rhetorically. I bounce out of my chair and start pacing. “You’re just sitting on your ass thinking my god this girl is an idiot and how crazy is she to think that she can actually make it through med school with no reason to believe that she’s any better than any other wannabe out there, right? Wrong. Maybe I’m a little bit crazy but I’m sure as hell not stupid and I don’t appreciate you telling me that I’m not going to make it, that I’m not going to get to do what I’ve always wanted to do—what I’ve set up my entire life for. I’ve burned my bridges and I have never looked back and it’s all been for this so don’t you dare tell me that I can’t do it. You can’t tell me that I’ve failed because I can’t. I can’t burn out. I can’t hit that brick wall at full speed, okay? That’s just not gonna happen.” I turn to face her. “So tell me. What the hell do I have to do? ‘Cause I’ll do it.”
“Let’s consider your options.”
Formats
Book Details
About the Book
Following her arrest and subsequent expulsion from medical school, Katherine Raymond is forced to undergo court-mandated therapy sessions as she works a donut shop drive-thru, unwillingly reunites with her family, gets involved in some questionable dealings at the funeral home next door, and discovers just how quickly a life can fall apart when you’re not paying attention.
About the Author
Claire M. Kinton is a native of greater Boston, where she lives and writes. She has spent most of her life in the theatre, both on stage and off. Having previously written plays and short stories, this is Kinton’s first novel.