Adventures of Studying with Roommate June 2, 2010

During exams Roommate and I pick a couch from the myriad of choices (2) in our living room, and remain vested for 3 hours at a time talking to each other about what we do or do not know. We’re generally ensconced with a blanket and pillow, our trusty brain food (quality stuff like Nibs, Sour Patch Kids, Sour Gummies, and of course, chips, popcorn, and other necessities). It’s only been a weekend of “hard-core” studying, and already we’re getting loopy.

Over the past 4 days, I have tried to read lecture notes in numerous accents to “spice it up.” So far, I have been quite successful with the Swedish accent, Southern Texan accent and the upper-crust British one (I’d like to think it’s upper crust, but it’s more likely some kind of Cockney accent…), and failed rather abominably at (irony of ironies) the Chinese accent. All I’ve got is “so sollie” (aka “so sorry”) “for-ten coo-ky,” (fortune cookie) which I do an exemplary job on.

Yesterday, I offered to pay Roommate $10 if she would act like a princess for the remainder of the night. She was quite good at breaking into random song and speaking in a melodic voice not unlike that of Amy Adams (oh silly me, Princess Giselle). She even tried to teach me, a Princess-in-Waiting, the secrets of the trade. As you can imagine, this became something of a difficulty because we were studying anatomy, and the subject of genitals came up. Since princesses do not nor should they ever know about genitals, this became quite the touchy subject. The logistics of talking about things like bladder or penis without using the words or even describing them in detail simply became overwhelming, and we had to stop and be normal. Needless to say, study productivity rose dramatically at this point.

The following is a conversation between Roommate and me during our exam-studying period.

Roommate: OMG.

Me: What?

Roommate: That thing looks just like a sperm.

Me: Huh? Sperm? (We had been studying things that cause diarrhea. Not sperm-related).

Roommate: yeah! C’mon, look!

I get up and look down at what she was pointing at behind the coffee table. There, on the ground, was our large tabby cat, sleeping. Wow, Roommate really has been studying WAY too much. I guess he does have a tail, though…If I squint I might be able to see it.

Me: Uh, yeah, right. Sperm.

As it turns out, roommate had actually been pointing at a piece of thread on the floor next to the cat. It resembled sperm far more than the cat. I was very relieved.

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.