I have never been outside my hospital since I joined two months ago.

As the only doctor in the oncology department, I cannot take the time to roam around the hospital. My duty hours are filled with chemotherapy treatments and the continuous monitoring of sick patients.

The hospital where I work is affiliated with a private medical college. On Saturdays and Sundays, the students have a holiday. It was a Saturday, and the outpatient departments (OPDs) were closed. I had only four patients in the ward, all of whom were stable.

It was a day when the weather hinted at an impending rain. The sky was filled with dark clouds. For the past few days, I had been desperately praying for rain, as it had been extremely hot for weeks.

It was 1:30 p.m. when a colleague of mine, who recently joined the pediatric surgery department as a registrar at my hospital, texted me to see if I wanted to go out for tea since the weather was so nice outside. Just then, the pharmacist arrived with the chemotherapy infusions that needed to be administered to the patients. After seeing those medications, I declined the invitation, thinking that I would have tea later in the afternoon after returning home.

I had to leave the hospital at 3 p.m. Around that time, I finished my pending work and handed over my shift to the next on-call doctor. I called that colleague of mine so we could leave together. She recently moved to Islamabad after getting married, but she is originally from Karachi, where she was born and raised. She completed her medical training in pediatric surgery in Karachi. It has been two weeks since she joined our hospital. We rode the same bus, and that’s how we got to know each other and started talking.

I called the bus driver to ask about his location. He informed me that he had something urgent to attend to, so he would pick us up in an hour. I was frustrated because all I wanted was to go home. However, I didn’t want to return to my ward. I found my friend sitting in the on-call doctor’s room in the pediatric ICU. I was tired and hungry, but nothing was appealing in the hospital cafeteria. A junior doctor there told us that the mess at the medical college had excellent food. None of us knew where the college was located, so the junior doctor kindly guided us there. It turned out to be quite far from the hospital.

I would never have agreed to go there if it had been a sunny day. However, the weather was nice, and both of us were off duty. The bus was late, and we had nothing else to do. Additionally, we were hungry and tired.

We left our bags in the doctor’s room, and I took only the umbrella and my phone with me. I didn’t take my wallet because, like many typical Pakistanis, I usually keep my money inside my phone cover—LOL. My beautiful maroon-colored umbrella was a gift from a dear friend on a lovely day two years ago. That umbrella is very special to me. It accompanies me on all sunny days as well as on beautiful rainy days. It has always been there for me when no one else was, like a kind and supportive friend, always by my side.

When we left the hospital, it was drizzling outside. The roads leading to the medical college were empty since it was a weekend, and there was no one in sight. We began our expedition, but after walking for about a mile, it started raining heavily. I tried to open my umbrella, but my friend snatched it away, refusing to let me use my beloved umbrella.

I am a person who loves the rain. On some days, I even pray for it, and when it arrives, I take it as a sign that God is listening to me and taking my wishes seriously. However, when it rains, I typically seek shelter and watch from a distance. Sometimes, during light rain, I enjoy going for a walk with an umbrella, or I sip tea while watching the rain from my balcony. I dislike the idea of getting wet or soaked and, in fact, I never have. Even as a child, my siblings tried to get me to join them in jumping in puddles, but I always preferred to observe from afar. I was never brave enough to get drenched.

I tried to hold onto my umbrella, but my friend was so determined—she was like a kid eager to get soaked in the rain and wished the same for me. She comes from Karachi, a city where rain is a rare occurrence. It’s very crowded there, and finding a quiet spot on a rainy day is a luxury for its residents. That’s why she was so thrilled and running like a child in the rain.

Without an umbrella and unprepared to get drenched, I felt afraid and fearful, while my friend was excited. Despite our contrasting emotions, we continued our journey. The college was situated at the top of a hill, and the first challenge we faced was a slope. My friend took my hand and began to descend. Fortunately, I was wearing sandals, but she had on a pair of black heels. She took off her heels and held them in one hand, along with my umbrella, and we continued on our adventure.

As we continued on our journey, the rain fell heavily, and I was completely soaked from head to toe. My glasses were covered in raindrops, making it difficult to see, and there wasn’t a dry spot on my clothes to wipe them clean. My scrubs, the tissues in my pocket, and even my phone were all soaked with rainwater. My feet slipped in my sandals, filled with water.

However, despite the discomfort, the experience was wonderful. Getting soaked in the rain and walking on empty roads with no one in sight felt incredibly freeing. After weeks of dry, scorching heat, the sensation of wetness was surprisingly refreshing. In fact, I loved it.

I pointed out the tall pine trees nearby and explained to her that they were a specialty of Islamabad. The roads were lined with fallen pine cones. I picked up a fully grown pine cone and gifted it to her, so she could keep it as a memento and place it on the shelf of her new home, reminding her of this beautiful day.

Finally, we arrived at the college mess and enjoyed the piping hot, delicious pasta. I am thankful to my friend for this unique experience in my life. It was truly beautiful.

I was reviewing the photos later that evening and reflecting on how I had overlooked such a simple experience all these years. It’s interesting to note that while all my friends and colleagues had someone by their side during their house jobs, residencies, and clinical rotations, I often found myself working alone in every position. Even now, at my current workplace, I’m the only doctor in oncology. Why does this keep happening to me? Typically, people have someone on call with them, but I seem to be stuck in situations where I am the only doctor stationed in the wards and OPD rotations.

I struggle to take breaks or leave my workstation. I enjoy eating or going out once I’m outside the hospital, where I feel no anxiety. However, I have a constant fear of leaving my workstation during my shifts, as if something terrible might happen in my absence. The stress of working in high-pressure specialties like neurosurgery and oncology, where there are always very ill patients, has made me forget how to breathe.

I have grown old and become fearful of trying new experiences in life. I often feel like a person who is afraid to try new things and embrace new experiences. I take comfort in familiarity and routine; I find security in monotony. I tend to order the same food repeatedly because I am afraid to take risks. The most challenging times in my life were when I moved to a new house or started a new job.

I fear change, and I sometimes feel like a coward. However, this day made me realize that perhaps unfamiliarity isn’t as daunting as it seems. There might be joys on the other side of fear. Sometimes, we just need someone to give us courage and accompany us into the unknown. Many people hesitate to try new things simply because they lack that push. It’s possible that those who are more reluctant need an even stronger motivation to leap.

“The rain to the wind said,
You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged—though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.”
― Robert Frost

Damane Zehra is a radiation oncology resident in Pakistan.