Danielle Ofri

The most ominous day of the year, if you're becoming a doctor, is July 1.

On July 1, everything turns over in the medical world.

So medical students become doctors.

They're now interns.

Interns become residents.

Residents are now fellows.

Fellows become attendings.

You're not supposed to remark on the bizarreness of being ratcheted up a notch at the stroke of midnight.

No.

On July 1st, you walk into your untested role, cool as a cucumber, and you act as though the world of June 30th and before never existed.

Or as the interns say, when in doubt, pretend.

And so on June 30th, I was a measly medical student.

And on July 1st, I was now one of those interns.

I had been scheduled to start internship on night float, four weeks straight of night shift only.

At 10 o'clock at night, I walked down First Avenue in the pitch darkness for my first day of internship.

Now, Night Float is supposed to be the direct continuation of medical care from the day teams.

But as a Night Float intern, I had the patient load of four other interns.

So this wasn't possible.

My beeper never stopped.

Mr. Rivera in 19 South needs a new IV.