Suicide Med
Author
Freida McFadden
Author Bio
Dr. Freida McFadden, the author of the Amazon bestseller The Devil Wears Scrubs, is a physician who has finally come to the end of her grueling medical training and is still just barely intact to read about it.
Description
There’s a reason Southside Medical School has been nicknamed “Suicide Med.” For the last six years, every year one student has taken his own life.
Except for last year. Last year was a murder-suicide.
The press has pointed to the heavy workload as the culprit in the high suicide rate. Some students believe that the school is cursed. And others believe that the deaths may not be suicides at all—that it’s no coincidence that Dr. Conlon, Southside’s quirky but beloved anatomy professor, joined the staff on the very year that the suicides began.
Either way, the same question echoes through the minds of every first year student at Suicide Med:
Who will be next to die?
Book excerpt
“I wish I had become a ballet dancer instead.”
I use the back of my forearm to swipe at strands of dark hair that have come loose from the tight bun at the back of my head. The attempt fails and the escaped locks fall back into my field of vision just as my glasses slide down the bridge of my nose. This is getting annoying—I wish I could use my hands to clear my vision. Unfortunately, my hands are clad in two pairs of latex gloves that are covered in preserved bits of Agatha’s insides. Agatha is dead.
“Or maybe a figure skater…”
I try to tune out the ramblings of my lab partner, Wendy Adams. It seems like Wendy’s irritatingly bubbly voice has been a soundtrack to every dissection I have ever done. It might have been more tolerable if Wendy offered to help. Instead, she sits perched on a stool, intently watching my handiwork. I’m tempted to rub my dirty gloves in Wendy’s face.
“Anything but a doctor,” Wendy concludes.
You’re not a doctor yet, I nearly point out, but I hold my tongue. I need to focus right now and the last thing I want to do is to get drawn into an argument.
It’s close to midnight on a Saturday night, and Wendy and I are the only two medical students in the first-year cadaver lab. I specifically chose this time, because I knew the lab would be quiet and free from any distractions. I was right—all I can see are rows and rows of dead bodies covered in a layer of clear, thick plastic to prevent desiccation; all I can hear is the whir of the fans working above my head. It would have been the perfect studying atmosphere if Wendy hadn’t insisted on coming along.
“I had a dream about Agatha last night,” Wendy says in a hushed voice, even though we’re the only two people in the room.
During the first week of anatomy class, we named our cadaver Agatha. I hadn’t wanted to name her—after all, this had once been a real person who had a real name of her own. But I felt silly voicing my objections, so I stayed quiet as the other members of my lab group tossed around name suggestions. It had eventually come down to Agatha or Medusa. I was relieved when the group settled on Agatha.
Agatha does seem like an appropriate name, somehow. “Agatha” is a frail old woman who has metal rings around her sternum and blood vessels grafted onto her heart. Of course, it’s impossible to know for sure, but I can make an educated guess that Agatha died of heart problems.
I try to imagine what sort of woman would make the decision to dedicate her body to a medical school. After everything I’ve seen this year, I know that’s one thing I myself would never do. The last thing I want is a bunch of snotty twenty-two-year-olds making fun of all my subcutaneous fat.
Author Website
http://doccartoon.blogspot.com/
Best place to buy your book
http://www.amazon.com/Suicide-Med-Freida-McFadden-ebook/dp/B00LJKH7XI/
