How exams have taken over my body and mind… May 30, 2010

It’s Saturday night, and I’m engaged in the coolest activity of them all. Studying. Or actually, not even studying. Just sitting on my bed thinking about how I should be studying and wishing that I was learning something, but not making the effort to crack open a book. I’ve had a rather uninspired couple of days when I’ve only left the house to go to school, and left school to go back home. To studying.

The living room is littered with what seems like a gazillion binders times two (one set for me, one set for my roommate). Personal hygiene is starting to become a thing of the past (and I consider this carefully as I scratch my itchy scalp). Actually, that’s a lie. I go through phases of cleanliness. If I’m successful in studying, I don’t shower because simply dragging myself away from the desk or bed or couch seems too much work and not worth the 30 minutes it would take to clean, dry, lotion, and clothe myself. Although this time inevitably ends up being spent on Facebook at 5 minute intervals every 10 minutes instead. Inevitably, I become bored. And by bored, I mean Facebook and Youtube can no longer entertain me in the “breaks I take between studying” (although what I actually engage in is “studying I take between breaks”). Then I shower. And I shower again. And I wax my legs. And I wash my face. And I brush my teeth. And floss. Then eat a cracker. And brush my teeth again. And floss again. It’s amazing how cleaning could actually consume hours and hours at a time.

Sometimes, I don’t turn to cleaning when I hit that rough spot. I fidget, tip the chair back, then tip it forward. Then think about Man Downstairs who’ll revenge on me for making the noise and creep in through my open window slit and slowly choke me with his bare hair-speckled freakishly large hands. I sigh loudly and make silent screams that really freak my roommate out because they’re at some strange frequency that travels great distances and she always hears them even though three walls and a door separate us. Then I make some other scary noises that really shouldn’t be coming from humans at all, at least not ones that are still alive.

It’s not just activities that become altered during this period, either. I made my first MacDonald’s trip since the December 2009 with unkempt hair, no makeup, ripped jeans (not the fashionable kind) and a cat-hair laden sweatshirt I normally wouldn’t be caught dead with outside the house. Is it sad that I’m already planning a second trip? A McNugget trip involving a 10-piece meal is in the works. We shall see how long I can hold up under the pressure and resist the temptation. Place your bets, everyone!

The last and truly depressing turn in life actually happens at night. Normally, I have fairly vivid dreams that I may or may not remember in the morning. They often involve food, hot air balloons, crossing the street, and giant balls of fire hurling down onto Earth from some distant galaxy. But once exams hit, I no longer have dreams, I have nightmares. Take Wednesday night. I had spent the evening reading up on an incredibly enjoyable topic of bladders and urine. Just fascinating how many reasons there are for someone to have incontinence and dribble. That night, I went to bed as per usual, just before the midnight mark in my comfy pj’s and the 3 layers of blankets that keep me warm. The next thing I know, I’m talking to a couple of faceless blurry classmates about some medical problems I had been having. Some pee-related medical problems. Apparently, I was peeing over 140 L a day! Consulting with my friends, I expressed great concern at this rather daunting volume. Being knowledgeable first years, they questioned me on my electrolytes, and apparently found out that my sodium levels were normal. So they patted me on the back, told me 140L wasn’t such a big deal, and that I was just fine. And then I woke up.

What the heck??

This level of invasion of studying is simply unacceptable! I was beyond annoyed that school had taken over my subconscious and was actually making me a books-controlled zombie. Why couldn’t I dream about Hawaii or more hot air balloons or Gerard Butler? Or being with Gerard Butler in a hot air balloon over Hawaii? Even flaming balls of fire would have been preferable. Perhaps I should plan my bedtime reading better next time…

The Realities of Summer May 14, 2010

As exams draw closer and more and more panic sets in, I can’t help but think of happier times of trees and the flowers and the birds and the bees (which incidentally IS school-related. Hello, sex-ed…). Of having conversations (or – prepare yourselves – meeting up) with friends for more than 30 minutes at a time. Of summers and what will happen in them…

I’m going to break down the average summer for the average pre-med student, or an ultra-keen med student – and FYI, there is no such thing as a med student who is NOT ultra-keen. Why would med students be ultra-keen, you wonder, when all we need is to learn (and 60%)? It’s bred into our bones as surely as some people are bred to be athletic or drool excessively or say inappropriate things in social settings. Some of us want to be good doctors. Others want to get into incredibly difficult and laborious residency programs so they can say “sure, saving a baby from a burning building is hard, but it’s not neurosurgery.” (Watch this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THNPmhBl-8I). Then there are those still who want to save the world. Below is a list of what I want.

What my delusional mind conjures up for the summer:	What will actually happen:
Master some kind of artsy fartsy class like painting or pottery or interpretive acting using my toes.	Doodle smiley faces in my notebook that I bring for “creative writing” at the beach.
Learn another language (like Italian) and wow the locals with it in Italy, accent-free.	Practice rusty Chinese with my parents and be reprimanded for how poorly I speak.
Lounge in Italy in a villa and make wine by stomping on grapes (common wine-making practice, no?)	Travel to Surrey and drink cheap beer.
Write a best-selling novel about something incredibly profound.	Read way too many novels so trashy I can’t even talk about them on a blog.
Bike the perimeter of Vancouver Island. And due to its wild success, extend the trip to all the way up the BC Coast. Maybe even Alaska. (If there were still a land bridge, I’d be well in Asia somewhere)	Bike to Richmond on a good day. And take the skytrain back.
Bake a gazillion healthy goods for friends, family, the sick, and the homeless. (If there were still orphanages, then I sure would get them too!)	Eat a gazillion baked goods, loaded in cream, chocolate, and butter and topped with cream, chocolate, and butter.
Cure cancer in my backyard.	Sunbathe in my backyard.
Eradicate HIV/AIDS. And those pesky malaria-ridden mosquitoes while I’m at it.	Get bitten by mosquitoes. Hopefully not malaria-ridden. Maybe West Nile, though.
Eliminate world hunger.	Eliminate MY hunger. And overcompensate every time.
Let’s just throw in world peace and gun control to round it all up (if you don’t get the Miss Congeniality reference, you’re missing out on a high-class, ultra-intellectual cinematic piece)	Watch “Killers” (violence AND a Katherine Heigl-led ultra chick-flick? A little something for everyone).

Huh, even the list of things I think will actually happen sound a bit intense and delusional, now that I’m reading it. Maybe I should have made 3 columns…

The Almost-Doctor Delusion May 11, 2010

In general, being in medical school has convinced me that I know absolutely nothing about everything. I don’t have time to really follow any current events in detail, so although I might be able to throw a few names here and there in conversation, none of them actually mean a thing to me. If you start talking to me about current politics and the pros and cons of HST (yes, even the HST), my head goes into automatic nodding mode and my brain wanders into a world with dolphins and unicorns, and perhaps a well-oiled masseuse named Alejandro. I’ve gotten so good that sometimes, I can even make half-comprehensible queries or answers, but really, I’m in la-la land.

But sometimes, I get lulled into thinking that I actually do know things. And I get moments of realization that one day, I will be a doctor. And delusions that perhaps even now I am close to the much revered and sought-after doctor-mentality. And then I plummet painfully back to earth.

Like today. I was walking up the street to meet a friend for dinner, when I happened to notice the guy in front of me with a limp. And I thought, wow, I’m going to be such a great doctor. Look at my amazing skills, my amazing observations. I’m noticing what most people probably miss, and if this guy came to my office, I could quite possibly save his leg. If not his life. Probably his life. I started thinking about what he could possibly have – not an easy feat because I actually know nothing about limps and what causes them (that unit comes next year). I wondered about brain tumours and polio and other perfectly reasonable differential diagnoses. I must have pondered for many minutes, because he happened to be walking the same way I was and I managed to follow about 2 steps behind (not on purpose, of course. Although he didn’t notice – he lacks my amazing observational skills). It wasn’t until just before we were to part ways that I noticed his other leg. It had a giant cast, stretching from his foot all the way to his knee.

Oh. I guess that’s why he was limping.

After crashing back into a giant crater that almost completely ate me up in embarrassment (thank goodness no one knew what I had been thinking!) I decided that perhaps I wasn’t quite ready to be a doctor just yet. Maybe another two or three or ten years of education IS what is needed. Thank goodness, I say. I wouldn’t want my doctor to miss something like a broken leg and say I had a brain tumour.