The Rat Incident

I want to tell you about something that happened during my second year of medical school. I refer to it as "the rat incident." I spent the first two years of med school with my nose buried in a book. The only thing that changed from month to month was the name of the book my nose was buried in and the library where I hid from the world. I found one particularly perfect place to study in the basement of the main library at UC Irvine's undergraduate campus. My good friend Reza and I had a good routine going: after lecture we would go home and have dinner and then meet in the library's basement for some hardcore studying. I had a quiet table on one side of the basement, and Reza found another table about 50 yards away separated by a maze of bookshelves.

One night, I was lost in thought studying about zoonoses (diseases transmitted by animals.) My feet were resting on a chair on the other side of the table, and my eyes were glued to the page in front of me. All of the sudden, I felt something run up the inside of my pant leg. I shook my leg vigorously and watched in disbelief as a small, furry animal scurried away under the nearest bookshelf. Did I really just see what I thought I saw? A rat had just scampered up my leg! (Truth be told, I think it was a small mouse, but the story sounds better when I say it was a rat).

I shook my head in disbelief and quickly turned my attention back to my microbiology textbook. I wasn't going to let a pest derail my study plans for the evening. Soon enough, I was again lost in thought as I tried to memorize a bunch of obscure diseases. Then, the unimaginable happened: I felt the familiar tickle of small paws (claws?) running up the inside of my jeans yet again. This time, however, the rat meant business. He got past my knee and was making progress up my thigh before I was able to expel him from the bottom of my pant leg. I have never moved a limb so violently in my life. I pulled up my jeans and saw a long scratch running from my ankle to my knee. The evil rat had drawn blood!

I packed up my books and found Reza on the other side of the library. I related to him the events of the last hour, describing in detail the two rat attacks. I could tell he didn't really believe me. I decided to study with Reza at his table, so I unpacked my books and went back to work. Not fifteen minutes later, I felt a presence behind me. I abruptly dropped my book and looked over my shoulder only to see the same wicked rat glaring at me with his beady little eyes. I pointed him out to Reza who caught a glimpse of the rat before he ran away.

Conceding defeat, I again packed up my belongings and left the library. I never returned to the basement to study. I am not sure why this particular wild animal chose to torment me. I shower daily and have never been known to have a strange body odor. I did not have any food in my pockets either. The whole thing is a total mystery. All I know is that I left the basement that night a broken man. A small rodent had succeeded in drivng me away from his habitat. In fact, I think I had post-traumatic stress disorder after "the rat incident." For months, whenever I felt even the slightest itch on one of my legs, my first instinct was to shake my leg in case the rat had tracked me down and was trying to finish where he left off.