So I came up with a really good analogy for this post in my head while out for a run yesterday... and then subsequently completely forgot it. Hope this doesn't stay true in med school.
Speaking of which... MSI orientation begins in approximately 41 1/2 hours. There are many "typical" feelings that students experience as they get ready to start medical school. Some examples:
"Oh my god what if I'm not smart enough!"
"Oh my god what if I don't really want to be a doctor!"
"Oh my god what if my classmates suck!"
"Oh my god how am I going to be able to study enough!"
"Oh my god how will I be able to maintain even a semblance of a social life!"
"Oh my god what will I do if I fail!"
These are typical feelings experienced going into medical school. I've never considered myself typical. But I've come to realize in the past 48 hours...
...
I'm typical.
I've handled things pretty well so far, mainly due to my low key SoCal bloodline and my healthy ego. But in the past couple days, in has crept the apprehension, the worry, the nervousness, the dread. I have to keep telling myself that this is all normal. It will pass soon enough. I AM smart enough to cut it, and cut it well. I really DO want to be a doctor. My classmates will NOT be a bunch of bookhead drones who will simply nod at my sarcastic sense of humor. I WON'T become a nerd hermit (nerd hermit... sounds like an animal. I'll work on this one).
However, we all have ways of coping. I have been coping by milking every precious moment out of my last few days of freedom by doing everything I always wanted to do... like sky diving, and renting a stretch hummer, and doing a line of coke off of a stripper's back.
Ok, not really.
But the consecutive nights of going out on the town have taken a healthy bite out of my checking account... and given me a healthy peace of mind.
I think I'm ready. Ok, I know I'm ready, but part of me doesn't want to believe it. Guess I don't have a choice. Time to stop swimming in the shallows and jump into the deep end.
Welcome to medical school.
Showing posts with label PremedZag. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PremedZag. Show all posts
August 11, 2007
August 6, 2007
Because I Want To Help People!
Being a person who's going to med school, there's one question nearly all of us have fielded for years. We've heard it in at med school admissions interviews, from grandma at thanksgiving, from that cute brunette at the bar, in conversations with undergrad professors.
"What made you want to be a doctor?"
"Why medicine?"
"Why do you want to be a doctor?"
There's a certain way to answer this question during med school interviews. You're supposed to say because its intellectually stimulating. Because you want to be a lifelong learner. Because you want to operate in a prestigious field. Because you are fascinated by the human body. Under no circumstances are you to say it's because you want to help people (ironically, I actually used this in my interviews and my interviewer at one said it was refreshing... REFRESHING! to hear a prospective med school student say he wanted to go into medicine to help people. Ah, medicine!).
When talking to pretty much anyone else... you always say what made you want to be a doctor was to help people (especially if you're talking to that cute brunette). Grandma doesn't want to hear about your "intellectually stimulating-shmimulating" crap.
For me, it was none of those things which first made me want to be a doctor. It wasn't because I popped out of the womb all altruistic and empathetic and scoring 35s on my mock MCATs.
For all of you to see, I will now unveil what made me first want to be a doctor.
...drumroll please...
August 7th, 1989 I received my Fischer Price Medical Bag for my 4th birthday. And the rest is history. Oh sure, eventually (not too much later actually) I knew I wanted to help people, and that vibed with medicine. In high school I knew I'd be a lifelong learner, and that vibed with medicine. I learned I loved challenges, and that vibed with medicine.
But it was all really that bag. From that day on I was all about the doctor-ness. While moving the other day I recently rediscovered this bag and went about examining its treasurers.
The Stethoscope:
3M Littmann Canary Blue/Baby Blue vs. Welch Allyn Firetruck Red/Classic Blue
From day one I had two stethoscopes in my bag. Deep down, I believe its because 3m Littmann and Welch Allyn both knew that one day they would be competing for my loyalties.
Unfortunately, neither carry stethoscopes in Canary Yellow/Baby Blue or Firetruck Red/Classic Blue anymore. I had to settle for Black/Brushed Steel. Maybe one day I can work with some reps to get some poppin' color back on the line.
Sexy Grown-Up MedZag Stethoscope (Welch Allyn Elite)
The Sphygmomanometer:
Yes, I owned a sphygmomanometer at age 4. That means I owned one on average of 20 years before my med school classmates. Does this make me a gunner? It's open to debate.
It's worth noting, however, that even though I've owned a sphygmomanometer for 18 years now, I still have no idea how the f@*k to pronounce the word.
The Rest:
Tons of stuff in this bag. At my med school, they recommend a student collect the following items before starting their clinical rotations: stethoscope, otoscope, sphygmomanometer, opthalmoscope, reflex hammer, and tuning fork. Of those items, I had 4 in my bag at age 4. The two I was missing, the opthalmoscope and tuning fork, I compensated with bandaids, a thermometer, and THREE syringes. So you could make the case that I was ready for clinical rotations from the day I received the bag. And ready for a crash code, since those three syringes are obviously filled with epi, atropine, and magnesium sulfate.
I'm considering taking the bag for a spin out in the bars here sometime soon. After all, next time I get asked "so why did you want to become a doctor?" (and it WILL happen soon), I figure it will be much easier to hold up the bag than launch into a rhetoric on my inherent altruistic nature.
Besides, it makes a great accessory. The cute brunette will appreciate that.
"What made you want to be a doctor?"
"Why medicine?"
"Why do you want to be a doctor?"
There's a certain way to answer this question during med school interviews. You're supposed to say because its intellectually stimulating. Because you want to be a lifelong learner. Because you want to operate in a prestigious field. Because you are fascinated by the human body. Under no circumstances are you to say it's because you want to help people (ironically, I actually used this in my interviews and my interviewer at one said it was refreshing... REFRESHING! to hear a prospective med school student say he wanted to go into medicine to help people. Ah, medicine!).
When talking to pretty much anyone else... you always say what made you want to be a doctor was to help people (especially if you're talking to that cute brunette). Grandma doesn't want to hear about your "intellectually stimulating-shmimulating" crap.
For me, it was none of those things which first made me want to be a doctor. It wasn't because I popped out of the womb all altruistic and empathetic and scoring 35s on my mock MCATs.
For all of you to see, I will now unveil what made me first want to be a doctor.
...drumroll please...
August 7th, 1989 I received my Fischer Price Medical Bag for my 4th birthday. And the rest is history. Oh sure, eventually (not too much later actually) I knew I wanted to help people, and that vibed with medicine. In high school I knew I'd be a lifelong learner, and that vibed with medicine. I learned I loved challenges, and that vibed with medicine.
But it was all really that bag. From that day on I was all about the doctor-ness. While moving the other day I recently rediscovered this bag and went about examining its treasurers.
The Stethoscope:
3M Littmann Canary Blue/Baby Blue vs. Welch Allyn Firetruck Red/Classic BlueUnfortunately, neither carry stethoscopes in Canary Yellow/Baby Blue or Firetruck Red/Classic Blue anymore. I had to settle for Black/Brushed Steel. Maybe one day I can work with some reps to get some poppin' color back on the line.
Sexy Grown-Up MedZag Stethoscope (Welch Allyn Elite)The Sphygmomanometer:
Yes, I owned a sphygmomanometer at age 4. That means I owned one on average of 20 years before my med school classmates. Does this make me a gunner? It's open to debate.It's worth noting, however, that even though I've owned a sphygmomanometer for 18 years now, I still have no idea how the f@*k to pronounce the word.
The Rest:
Tons of stuff in this bag. At my med school, they recommend a student collect the following items before starting their clinical rotations: stethoscope, otoscope, sphygmomanometer, opthalmoscope, reflex hammer, and tuning fork. Of those items, I had 4 in my bag at age 4. The two I was missing, the opthalmoscope and tuning fork, I compensated with bandaids, a thermometer, and THREE syringes. So you could make the case that I was ready for clinical rotations from the day I received the bag. And ready for a crash code, since those three syringes are obviously filled with epi, atropine, and magnesium sulfate.I'm considering taking the bag for a spin out in the bars here sometime soon. After all, next time I get asked "so why did you want to become a doctor?" (and it WILL happen soon), I figure it will be much easier to hold up the bag than launch into a rhetoric on my inherent altruistic nature.
Besides, it makes a great accessory. The cute brunette will appreciate that.
July 30, 2007
Color Me An Idiot
Big news today when supreme court chief justice John Roberts went down at his vacation home with a sudden unexpected seizure. Since I spent the first dozen years of my life really interested neurology, I checked up on the actual medical diagnosis of his condition.
Ruled: benign idiopathic seizure
Being the classically bored pre-medical student that I am, I bust out Stedman's Medical Dictionary to look up the proper definition of "idiopathic."
Denoting a disease of unknown cause. Less commonly referred to as idiopathetic.
Idiopathetic. Sometimes I love the english language. Only a term denoting an unanswerable question of diagnosis contains reference to both the words "idiot" and "pathetic."
Ruled: benign idiopathic seizure
Being the classically bored pre-medical student that I am, I bust out Stedman's Medical Dictionary to look up the proper definition of "idiopathic."
Denoting a disease of unknown cause. Less commonly referred to as idiopathetic.
Idiopathetic. Sometimes I love the english language. Only a term denoting an unanswerable question of diagnosis contains reference to both the words "idiot" and "pathetic."
July 26, 2007
My Shoulder Named Dr. Orthopod
It's that calm before the storm. Med school orientation starts in 18 days. I have a place to live and a bed to sleep in. I'm about as organized as I am going to be before the madness begins. I'm in a city at least hours away from mostly everyone from my regular social group. Which gives me a lot of time to do absolutely nothing. My time hasn't been this unoccupied in years and its given me a lot of time to reflect.
Medicine is one of the most paradoxical professions out there. Medical school self-selects for individuals who ooze empathy, a desire to do good and help others. That empathy is subsequently systematically destroyed under the notion that it is only by being objectively detached from those one treats that you can decide what is best for them. I keep wondering what kind of doctor I'm going to be. Am I going to be the type who will be able to look into the eyes of a patient and explain we've done all that we can but they will die and be able to connect on a level that I can actually continue to make a difference in their care beyond the point of drugs and tests? Or will I be the type to switch into a systematic "I'm sorry" routine, give the hands two squirts of sanitizer on the way out the door, then drop the chart into its wall mount and move on to "patient #2 is presenting with..." Only time will tell.
I think most medical school students still, despite all our hours of clinical experience, ER shadowing, and hospital volunteering, hold a great deal of naïtivity and delusions of grandeur about being a physician. And I think thats a good thing. Medicine is an issue of ultimate trust between patient and doctor. Doctors take ownership of their patients' bodies, and patients are oddly at ease with it. Just today at physical therapy, I referred to my shoulder as my orthopedic surgeon's "good work." Not my shoulder repaired by my orthopedic surgeon. My shoulder, property of my orthopedic surgeon. His sutures will dissolve in a few months. The anchoring screws in a few more. But it will ever be his handiwork. In a perhaps overly dramatic statement, if it weren't for him, a part of me would be broken, and now its fixed.
I think with that sort of responsibility the physician owes more to the patient then to be completely detached. And I think starting down the path to the doctor-I'm -going-to-be that its good to have some of those childhood visions about being a doctor, riding off on his horse into the sick and diseased and waving his staff of asclepius in the face of death (I know, I had a dorky childhood). Because I think too many doctors these days treat the disease and not the person. But I've seen enough physicians who are exceptions, who treat their patients kindly, humanely, empathetically, and intelligently, to know that it doesn't have to be like that. I know my medical school class can be 120 for 120 in producing empathetic, caring doctors. Odds are it will be much lower then that, because the culture of medicine is structured to beat that childhood pipe dream out of you - to emotionally protect you, to "make you a better doctor." But I think you need to have that childhood doctor-in-shining-armor inside you in the beginning, because you never know how long it will stick around or when it might pop up again. It might be at the end of a 48 hour shift when I'm an intern. It might be 7 years later as an attending. But the important thing is, you might just find yourself treating people again, instead of "patient #2 presenting with..."
I wonder what kind of doctor I'm going to be. I hope I'm one who treats sick people and not sickness.
And turn out looking like McDreamy. With the wit of Perry Cox. Yeah, that'll do just fine. But mainly the sick people part.
"Because it is particularly in cases of catastrophic or incurable illnesses that the role of the physician is more, not less, important, let me suggest that the fewer the therapeutic options available, the greater your involvement with the patient should be. When there is no cure, there is still much to be done to alleviate suffering."
Medicine is one of the most paradoxical professions out there. Medical school self-selects for individuals who ooze empathy, a desire to do good and help others. That empathy is subsequently systematically destroyed under the notion that it is only by being objectively detached from those one treats that you can decide what is best for them. I keep wondering what kind of doctor I'm going to be. Am I going to be the type who will be able to look into the eyes of a patient and explain we've done all that we can but they will die and be able to connect on a level that I can actually continue to make a difference in their care beyond the point of drugs and tests? Or will I be the type to switch into a systematic "I'm sorry" routine, give the hands two squirts of sanitizer on the way out the door, then drop the chart into its wall mount and move on to "patient #2 is presenting with..." Only time will tell.
I think most medical school students still, despite all our hours of clinical experience, ER shadowing, and hospital volunteering, hold a great deal of naïtivity and delusions of grandeur about being a physician. And I think thats a good thing. Medicine is an issue of ultimate trust between patient and doctor. Doctors take ownership of their patients' bodies, and patients are oddly at ease with it. Just today at physical therapy, I referred to my shoulder as my orthopedic surgeon's "good work." Not my shoulder repaired by my orthopedic surgeon. My shoulder, property of my orthopedic surgeon. His sutures will dissolve in a few months. The anchoring screws in a few more. But it will ever be his handiwork. In a perhaps overly dramatic statement, if it weren't for him, a part of me would be broken, and now its fixed.
I think with that sort of responsibility the physician owes more to the patient then to be completely detached. And I think starting down the path to the doctor-I'm -going-to-be that its good to have some of those childhood visions about being a doctor, riding off on his horse into the sick and diseased and waving his staff of asclepius in the face of death (I know, I had a dorky childhood). Because I think too many doctors these days treat the disease and not the person. But I've seen enough physicians who are exceptions, who treat their patients kindly, humanely, empathetically, and intelligently, to know that it doesn't have to be like that. I know my medical school class can be 120 for 120 in producing empathetic, caring doctors. Odds are it will be much lower then that, because the culture of medicine is structured to beat that childhood pipe dream out of you - to emotionally protect you, to "make you a better doctor." But I think you need to have that childhood doctor-in-shining-armor inside you in the beginning, because you never know how long it will stick around or when it might pop up again. It might be at the end of a 48 hour shift when I'm an intern. It might be 7 years later as an attending. But the important thing is, you might just find yourself treating people again, instead of "patient #2 presenting with..."
I wonder what kind of doctor I'm going to be. I hope I'm one who treats sick people and not sickness.
And turn out looking like McDreamy. With the wit of Perry Cox. Yeah, that'll do just fine. But mainly the sick people part.
"Because it is particularly in cases of catastrophic or incurable illnesses that the role of the physician is more, not less, important, let me suggest that the fewer the therapeutic options available, the greater your involvement with the patient should be. When there is no cure, there is still much to be done to alleviate suffering."
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