Thread by @TheRealDoctorT

They say your first overnight call shift is the worst.

It gets better from there.

Every day you’re learning a little more.

I’m headed into the hospital on a snowy evening. Supposed to be some sort of record storm tonight. Thick clouds rolling in all day.

Overcast skies. 1/

I’m going to be the night-float intern. It’s my first overnight shift.

My heart is racing with adrenaline. A semi-queasy feeling, laced with excitement.

I enter the house-staff lounge to get sign out from the day teams.

They give me updates and tasks.

Then say goodbye. 2/

I will never see them again.

I don’t know that yet.

The shift begins as the clock strikes 7PM. Together with my fellow interns and residents, I start heading to the floors to begin my night-float rounds.

Checking tasks off my list, one by one.

Time ticks by. 3/

Outside the storm has really intensified. I pause by a hospital window to look outside. Snow is falling heavily, whipped into a frenzy by the howling wind.

The clouds are dark, almost inky black. There are occasional flashes of lightning, and rumbling thunder.

I shiver. 4/

Something feels strange in the air. Like there’s a heaviness. A stillness.

I decide to quit thinking about it and get back to my work.

The night passes.

Around 3AM I get hit by a huge wave of sleepiness.

My work is pretty much done, so I decide to nap. 5/

I fall asleep as soon as my head touches the couch in the lounge.

It is a dark and dreamless sleep.

I jolt awake after what feels like only a few moments.

Something is wrong. It takes me a moment to realize it. The clock isn’t working. It must’ve gotten stuck.

7PM. 6/

I sit up and rub my eyes, then glance at my watch. 7PM.

Frowning, I look down at my phone, and my pager. 7PM.

What the… but I just went through the entire night.

I look down at my checklist, and none of the boxes are checked.

What? How is this possible? 7/

My fellow house staff are heading out to the floors. As I listen to them speak I get a dizzying sense of deja vu.

I know these conversations.

Maybe… maybe it was just an elaborate dream? Maybe I fell asleep for a moment at the start of my shift and just dreamed it? 8/

I get up and leave the lounge, heading to the floors. Again.

And I start to do my rounds, my tasks. Again.

It really feels like I’ve done this before. People say things I remember.

But that’s not possible… is it?

I stop by the window again, and look out at the storm. 9/

The storm looks different. It’s not snowing. Now there are sheets of freezing rain lashing the window. The sky seems even darker, somehow. The flashes of lightning seem closer.

I feel an icy stab of fear in my heart.

Am I losing it?

I return to my work. 10/

Around 3AM, I’m suddenly so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.

I remember this.

Before I sleep this time I take the piece of paper with my tasks on it and carefully rip it in two. I put the two halves on separate tables.

And I collapse asleep. 11/

My eyes open slowly, and I yawn.

Then I remember, and sit bolt upright immediately looking for my sign out paper.

It’s intact, in one piece. Not ripped into two halves.

My heart sinking, I look at the clock. 7PM.

The night-float teams are leaving out to the floors. 12/

What’s going on? Am I really waking up at the start of my call shift over and over?

Am I stuck in some sort of time loop?

I try and dial my family, but my calls are all going to voicemail.

Actually every single number I try to call is either a busy signal or voicemail. 13/

Only the hospital phones are working.

Feeling a rising panic, a bitter taste in the back of my throat, I leave the lounge.

Screw my to-do tasks, I need answers.

I start asking a fellow intern if they’re noticing anything weird, and they say no, and look at me blankly. 14/

Nobody remembers having lived this night already. Not the patients, not the nurses, not my colleagues.

Only me.

I pause by the window, and look out at the storm.

The storm is different, again. It’s the only thing that seems to be changing.

No rain. No snow. Just wind. 15/

The wind is howling almost violently. The sky is so dark it almost seems to have its own gravity, pulling me towards it.

Lightning is still flashing, except this time I hear no thunder.

An idea hits me.

Don’t fall asleep. Just bypass the 3AM nap. That should work. 16/

I try drinking a ton of caffeine. Doesn’t work.

Eyes open. 7PM. Damn.

Have to try again. Ignore everyone. Ignore tasks.

Have another idea. Am going to steal some epinephrine from a crash cart, and shoot up just as 3AM rolls around.

I’m sick of this Groundhog Day BS. 17/

Stop by the window, again. Storm looks different, again.

Wind is even louder. Howling. Sounds like people screaming.

I want to scream.

Lighting flashes in the distance. I think I see shapes in the clouds. People. People in the clouds.

I leave to find the crash cart. 18/

3AM is here. I get hit by the wave of fatigue. I inject myself with the epinephrine.

Eyes widen. Heart racing.

Except… no. Dammit. Eyes shutting.

But something different happens here. I wake up!

I wake up and the clock says 4AM!

YES! But… something’s wrong. 19/

I can’t move. I can only look around.

I see something I can’t put into words.

My colleagues are all frozen, just like me. And something is moving among them. A creature. Can’t describe it. Terrifying.

Oh God, it sees me! It sees my eyes are open!

IT’S COMING!

HELP-

I jolt awake. 7PM. What? It was a dream? No. I know better.

Something is experimenting on us. Something is “resetting” this night over and over.

I must figure a way out.

I go to the window and look outside. I can’t see the city anymore. Just a thick fog. 21/

Days pass. I wake up at 7PM, over and over.

I try leaving the hospital, but I can’t. Leaving the front door instantly makes me wake up again.

Medicines don’t work.

Even death is just a reset. I tried.

I’ve talked to every person in the hospital. Nobody believes me. 22/

Time passes strangely in this place, and doesn’t pass at all.

I guesstimated the other night. I think I’ve been trapped in this loop for years.

The storm outside has disappeared completely. Now it’s just brilliant white light, streaming in.

Nobody sees it. Only me. 23/

They say your first overnight call shift is the worst.

It gets better from there.

But what if they’re wrong?

What if there only ever is one call?

One eternal, perpetual call.

And even death can’t set us free.

I’ve been here so so long.

But it’s only 7PM.

Back to work…