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.
Ramblings of a Mad Med Student 