Finals - Quarter One

I can now understand, with a great degree of clarity, why medical students become hardened and uncaring. Unless you've been there, or are here, you can't possibly understand the enormity of the task and the feeling of utter hopelessness. It's just school, how can it be that bad? It is.

I'm not sure if it's the countless numbers of mind-numbing, "I'll never use this again," details, or the lack of time for anything else, or the bi-polar grades. Probably it is the combination of it all. The material is interesting; I wouldn't be here is I didn't think it was. The frustration of never being well-prepared is extremely taxing. There is not enough time. There is never enough time.

So what do we do? I think probably learn new coping skills. Take time when there isn't any. Understand that mediocrity doesn't equal bad doctor. In fact, some of the smartest people in my class are going to be awful doctors. It's too bad, really, that in the US we base success on the ability to memorize.

I can't see a better way to do it. You don't want a manual-dexterity genius taking out your gallbladder if they don't know exactly where it is and how to stop bleeding. You don't want a pediatrician for your baby with a cleft palate that doesn't understand where neural crest cells go. However, for those of us who struggle with memorization, we are suffering, and we will probably not have the option of a competitive residency. You're loss.

For now, I will be happy that I'm doing well-enough. I will play my cello and go on dates with my husband. I will play with my critters, and I will try to enjoy medical school without becoming a business-woman. "Next, please. . ." I will do my best to look you in the eye and give a damn.