Medical Center
A brand-new day kicked off.
When Adam arrived, the four newbies—his little squad of interns—swarmed him, practically buzzing with energy to take on whatever he threw their way.
Sure, they'd been eager before, but today? Today, they were extra pumped.
"Everyone heard the news, huh?" Adam said, standing at the nurse's station, flipping through the latest patient summaries. He glanced up at them with a knowing look.
"Yup!" they all chimed in unison.
"This is the first intern from your group to get the boot," Adam said with a smirk. "But trust me, it won't be the last. So, you guys finally get it now, right? Even something as 'simple' as writing up a chart or breaking bad news to a patient isn't a walk in the park."
"Got it!" the four of them replied together again, though Lexie's voice boomed louder than the rest.
Why? Because Adam had specifically assigned her and Shorty the task of delivering patient updates. Shorty—bless her—always followed Adam's orders to a T, no questions asked. She hadn't complained before, and she sure as heck wasn't about to start now.
It was only their second shift rotation, and already one of the new interns had been sent packing. And the reason? Equal parts hilarious and horrifying.
Take Norman, the intern shadowing Meredith. Guy was in his fifties—yep, fifties. Spent thirty years as a pharmacist, then decided late in life he wanted to be a surgeon.
Chase your dreams, right? 💪
With his savings and decades in the medical field, he breezed through med school and landed an internship. But age catches up to you, and it hit Norman hard.
First off, the stamina just wasn't there. Young folks can grit their teeth through a 36-hour shift, crash for a bit, and bounce back like nothing happened. But a fifty-something dude who's used to a chill, laid-back life? Throw him into that kind of high-octane grind, and he's toast.
To make it worse, after his first brutal 36-hour shift, he only got a measly 12-hour break before the next one started. Norman couldn't recover.
So, there he was at work, zoning out, half-asleep, basically phoning it in. Picture this: a fifty-something guy in a white coat—people see him and assume he's some seasoned attending. Even when he's slacking, they just shrug it off like, "Oh, that's just his expert vibe."
And Meredith, his supervisor? Total space cadet half the time, too busy mooning over her love life to call him out. Plus, how do you chew out a guy who looks like your dad—or maybe your grandpa—without feeling like a jerk?
That's how this whole ridiculous mess happened.
When the chaos hit, Meredith initially tried to pull a Mark Sloan—making frantic phone calls left and right—until Adam snapped her out of it. She finally left the hospital to track down the misdiagnosed patient at her apartment.
What a wild goose chase that was.
She eventually found the woman at her place. Meredith let out a sigh of relief—crisis averted, right? Nope. What came next left her jaw on the floor.
Turns out, this patient had gone in to get a mole removed, only to be told she didn't have long to live. Talk about a bombshell! 💥 Like most people would, she figured, "Screw it, I'm going out with a bang."
She'd spent years slaving away as a corporate drone—why keep at it if she was about to kick the bucket? So, she marched into her office, ripped into her sleazy manager, told off the snitchy coworkers who'd mocked her for years—oh, it felt good.
Then she ditched her apartment lease, dumped her boyfriend, and—since the news hadn't spread yet—maxed out a bunch of credit cards. Her plan? Cash in, jet off overseas, and live the luxe life she'd never had.
She pulled it all off at lightning speed. Back at her apartment, ready to pack up and bounce, she found Meredith waiting with the bombshell: "Uh, yeah, about that… it was a mistake."
Cue the meltdown. 😭
The worst thing in the world? You're still alive, but your money's gone. For this woman, it was worse—she was alive, and everything was gone.
Right then, the surgical chief called Meredith, barking orders to haul the patient back to the hospital ASAP. Lawyers got involved, and they hashed out a settlement with the still-dazed woman.
She flipped back to that pre-death adrenaline high, grinning ear to ear as she thanked a very awkward Meredith. Why? Because the hospital—via the chief—compensated her with a big house. Four bedrooms, three and a half baths, plus a chunk of cash. Enough to make her happy and drop any lawsuits.
The hospital took a hit, though, and someone had to take the fall.
Prime suspect? Norman, the intern. Second in line? Meredith, his distracted resident supervisor.
Norman, with his thirty years of pharmacy street smarts, knew the game. When the chief pulled him aside, he owned it—said it was all on him, not "Dr. Grey." Then he volunteered to quit the internship and bounce.
Smart move. If he'd stuck around, he'd have been stuck with a black mark on his record and no future anyway. Plus, after surviving that brutal shift and this disaster, his surgeon dream fizzled out. Now? He's dreaming of being a therapist—figures young folks like Meredith need someone with life experience to sort out their messy heads.
Therapy's where it's at, apparently.
Whatever Norman's next move, he didn't even make it past the second shift as an intern before bailing. Last time, Alex—the first to get axed—held on for months.
Each generation really does top the last, huh? 😅
The new interns were shook. The four newbies were keeping it together better than most, but the rest? They were busting their butts—peak diligence, peak professionalism—like they wanted "HARD WORKER" tattooed on their foreheads. No one wanted to be next on the chopping block.
Rumor has it two interns get cut each round. One's gone, so you'd think the rest would relax. Nope—seeing it happen made it way too real.
"Now that you know, step it up," Adam said with a grin. "I don't wanna see any of you getting axed—or giving up."
"…" George's mouth twitched.
Dude, why're you only staring at me when you say that?!
Rounds wrapped up.
"Come on, the seminar's about to start—let's snag some good seats!" Cristina called out, hauling a stash of snacks and drinks, dragging a mopey Meredith along as she waved Adam over.
"You're way too extra," Adam said, shaking his head. "This isn't a popcorn flick!"
"Resident vs. hotshot attending? This drama's way juicier than any movie," Cristina shot back, eyes sparkling. "Adam, I'm rooting for you—take Sloan down!"
"Dr. Duncan, can we come too?" Lexie piped up, unable to resist.
"Of course!" Cristina jumped in before Adam could answer. "The more, the merrier—anyone free can join. It's a seminar, duh!"
"Yeah, you can," Adam said, glancing at his four eager interns. "Patient mortality seminars are brutal lessons—listen up and take it to heart."
"Yes, sir!" they chirped in sync.
"Adam, hang back a sec," the surgical chief called out as they reached the conference room door. "I need a word."
"Sure thing," Adam replied with a smile, following him off to the side.
"Damn it!" Cristina groaned, tossing her snacks and drinks into George's arms.
"What's up?" George blinked, fumbling to catch everything.
"You blind? Today's big showdown's probably toast," Cristina huffed, rolling her eyes as she shuffled inside.
(End of Chapter)