The sound of sirens, shattering glass, and splintering wood - plus the sharp crack of snipers' bullets and the thunder of heavy bomb shelling... This was the soundtrack of a sleepless night of terror that I spent huddling in a bathtub, as far from windows as I could get.
Our apartment building was being torn apart as military forces targeted civilians and a nearby hospital in the Christian sector of Beirut. I already thought I had died multiple times that night, and when the noise finally stopped, I dozed off for a split second, being awakened by the shrill ring of the telephone.
It was a miracle that I was still alive – and a miracle that our phone line was still working. After all, we lost the the top floor of our building and all our windows that night.
"Good morning, Micheline, this is the American University of Beirut Medical Center," said the calm voice on the other end of the line. It sounded as if it was coming from another universe to the war zone I was living in. "The director would like to schedule an interview with you for a position at the hospital."
I stood in silence. Was I dreaming?