Merry Christmas

I scraped by my ass by my latest path exam...apparently I was supposed to prepare for a clinical cardiology exam instead of a cardiovascular pathology exam. That wasn't what the syllabus or the previous year's exams said, but such is life. I still passed the class...but this P=MD after weeks of studying my butt off is just sucking the life out of me. I don't know what I'm doing wrong but it's quite disheartening to study your face off for 3 weeks straight and walk out of an exam to find out you're barely pass the class because of your awesomely half-assed performance. Regardless, I'm still class of 2010

Fortunately, I've got the next two weeks off to get my head on straight, re-evaluate what I'm doing wrong and set up a plan to get me through step 1 and into third year with my sanity and relationships in tact. Oh yeah, I get to spend time with my family and non-medical friends too!!! Merry Christmas to all, and I'll be back in the new year

Take care,
Bostonian

I've lost that lovin' feelin'...

(Cue Anthony Edwards: "I hate it when he does that!")

For about the umpteenth time this year, I've lost that lovin' feelin' that I had when I was a pre-med, came again for about the first 3 weeks of medical school, and then again for the first few weeks of this year after my fun EM internship. Whenever I walk over to the library, I feel the life being drained out of me. Whenever I look at Robbins, I'm told I get what has been described as "a really pathetic look" on my face.

So I am pondering:

Why is it that the entire medical education process is built around separating us from the things and people that we care about and totally immersing ourselves in the material? I spent 22 years of my life focused on becoming a well-rounded individual with interests outside of medicine, with relationships beyond the walls of my educational institution, with emotions, creative energy, compassion and a decent credit rating. Hell, I even ran a half marathon at one point at sub-8 minute mile pace.

But all of that is gone now, at age 24. I gave myself away the second I put on that short white coat and signed away my first master promissory note. I can rattle off obscure medical facts with out blinking, but I can't have a normal conversation with friends from high school. I can talk to a schizophrenic and elicit the history of his life, but I can barely hold a 10 minute phone conversation with my mom or my girlfriend without long silences. I know the intricate workings of the human body and mind, but I'm losing touch with my own soul.

I suppose that if this was the former USSR circa-1965 and my parents and local government officials had determined that I would be a physician from the age of 3 because I was good at the knock off Soviet version of Operation, this total dedication of my life's energy to Mother Medicine would be a bit more palatable. But, I guess that physicians are made and not born... and hundreds of thousands have gone through this training process and come out alive and with their minds somewhat in tact.

5 days...until freedom, sleep and feeling like myself again.

Under Pressure...

::Cue Queen::
Dun dun dun dundundun dun...
Dun dun dun dundundun dun...

8 mere days left until winter break...3 cumulative exams to go...
I can't wait!!!

I'll post again soon!

Holy Crap!

More than 1000 views of this page, many of which are not my own!

Thanks for reading my drivel, if it gets your through your day, more power to you.

If you come here to anonymously spy on my suffering, there's plenty more coming up you're a sick person and should probably seek professional help, you sadist you.

Seriously, thanks for reading

BinNY

Demotivation

I know that it's perfectly natural to go through up and down periods within medical school, but I swear that I swing back and forth faster than a bipolar crack addict.

This morning, I had a great amount of difficulty dragging my sorry ass out of bed to study. I walk through the cold over to school, and as soon as I get through the front door I can feel my shoulders sag and my posture slouching and the joy being dragged out of me as I head into the library for a little bit of light reading (Viruses...hooray). 20 ounces of black coffee couldn't even get my sorry butt motivated.

Later this same day, I head to a mandatory small group session with one of the fourth year students and I almost enjoyed interacting with my small group in yet another extremely inefficient clinical correlation exercise...the leader actually managed to get a discussion going and some interesting tidbits were addressed and some of her knowledge was thrown down and the session actually ran itself instead of morphing into mandatory lecture time like usual. I finally felt like I was actually learning something that might be clinically relevant in my career, instead of staggering through endless lists of cell markers, random correlations pulled from pubmed and obscure diseases that have an incidence of 1:10,000 in a tiny corner of Bulawayo province of Zimbabwe.

Then again tonight, I head on back over to the library with my dinner and my virus reading, same life-sucking feeling, same slouching posture, same falling asleep in the pages of my book out of sheer disgust. I try chewing gum...still can't concentrate. I try taking a dinner break...still can't concentrate. I try commiserating with some of my study buddies...can't focus. Finally after about 6 hours of on and off productivity, (consisting of 2 class transcripts, phone calls to mom and the girlfriend, an hour of screwing around with classmates, 30 minutes of dinner, and at least 6 bathroom breaks) I threw in the towel and headed for home, defeated by viruses and my own demotivation.

All I can do is remind myself of a few things:

• 903 days until graduation.
  
• 1.5 years finished, $117,000 spent on school
  
• 7 months until I am released onto the wards and Step 1 and the end of this pointless suffering in the bowels of the library.
  
• Most importantly, 2 weeks until Winter Break: sleeping in, skiing, family and friends around, no Robbins, no Murray, my dog, and contact with the real world outside of my personal hell. Basically, I get the things that matter in my life back firmly in my possession for 2 entire weeks (probably for the last time until 4th year, but I'll face that realization later on...with a healthy dose of angst and scotch)