A Med School One-Sided Love Story

She stayed up late that night, studying for a practical exam. And so she woke up 30 minutes too late, missed the schoolbus, and had to take the taxi, straining her already meager allowance and not predisposing her to a good mood.

But then the first person she saw as she stepped out of the taxi was him, arriving at the same time. And she breathed a silent prayer of thanks. He took off his basketball cap exposing his rumpled black hair, saw her, and smiled. She smiled back and they fell in step.

He looked like he hadn't slept at all, which must have been the case. He was one year ahead of her and they were having their Final Exams that day.

They talked as they walked. Small things. Insignificant things. But to her, it didn't matter. All that mattered was they were talking. And as they passed by the chapel, she invited him in, just for a few minutes. She said her morning prayers and prayed for the young man praying at the other end of the pew.

They climbed five flight of stairs, still talking about insignificant things.

In her head, she was thinking. She was thinking of how much she liked him... this young man, who at heart was still very much a boy, uncorrupted by the worldliness around him. She loved his sunny disposition and kind nature... his always trying to do better... his quirks... his laughter... She remembered how her heart ached at seeing him sad and how he didn't notice the little things she did for him... Was that only two weeks ago?

In a way, she was glad she didn't feel that way anymore. It made life less complicated.

But as they parted ways by the vending machine, she to get her breakfast and he to take his test, she could not help wishing, that he'd one day realize they could be perfect for each other.

Reflections

I have nothing to write about, really. I just wanted to say that I love the stark simplicity of this blog.

By the way, I am uncovering the earliest blog entries of one of my favorite female surgeon blogger. She started in second year, med school. Which is more or less where I am right now.

I've been losing interest in this blog. When I started, I had these great hopes of writing really good entries and stuff like that. Now I'm thinking that this blog won't really amount to much.

However, the thing is, I realized that I have lost touch to the core reason why I started this anyway. It's not to wow people with my med school adventures (which doesn't amount to much, in the first place). It's more of a gift of myself to myself... a record of the person I was and the person I'm turning out to be.

This obscure blog is mine. And those who find themselves here are free to glimpse through my life.

But as I said, this is mine. And one day, I'll read through these entries and look at the person I was and smile... Smile at my victories... smile at my tragedies... smile at my adventures and misadventures...

And in the end, pass this on to my children (and the rest of my progeny)... A gift of myself to the future generation.

:)

Studying

My Anatomy book lies open and ignored in my old bedroom, waiting for me to finally come to my senses and start studying.

Random Thoughts of a Would-be Second Year

I found out that a friend of mine from 2nd year failed. So we'll be classmates this year.

I feel really bad for her. And at the same time, I am shocked. She's one of the good students. I see her studying in the library with her boyfriend (who also happens to be uber smart). She's part of the council. It's just pretty much unbelievable.

Our grades are out.

I'm confident about my status (yes, I'll be in second year next school year for sure) but I have qualms regarding my general average. Will I still get my scholarship???

In a way, I'm excited.

Who will my new classmates be? For sure, a few will remain in first year. (I hope all of my friends pass.) And of course, there will be second years who didn't make it. This will be interesting.

I'm wondering about a friend (..sort of friend..). Will he finally make it? Although it would be fun to have him for a classmate, I'd much rather see him in 3rd year. And well, yeah. There's a big chance we'll be classmates in 3rd year anyway. (Hmm... I'm being mean.)

So... all in all, I hope it will be a great year.

.xoxo.

One Month To Go

The knowledge that the more I know, the more I do not know, is humbling. But, that's not supposed to stop me, right?

One month has passed since the end of first year. And while I have managed to stay somewhere along the top of the class (2nd? 3rd?), and have somehow managed to do well in my exams (.. psychic power?..), the fact of my ignorance is glaring at me in the face.

Eek. I know hardly anything.

Seriously.

With one month to go till second year, I have to somehow get over my natural tendency towards procrastination and find a way to get myself motivated.

Ugh. Now what?

On top and falling...

I topped Block 5 in our batch. It was a bit of a shock and it took me a few minutes to get over it. Okay. So I did keep on secretly wishing to top and I did think I had a fighting chance to make it on top.

After floating in the third spot for two consecutive blocks before diving to the fifth spot on the last block, being on top feels... good.

But the thing is, I knew it was only grace which sustained me. I did really well on the Lab Practical Exam, which was the only thing which kept bringing me down. For the life of me, I have a hard time identifying histological structures. The real thing is so far-off from the pictures in the books (and I'm more often too lazy to review the slides when we're given time).

So anyway, I made it on top and although it feels good, it also feels awkward.

To be continued...

(PS. My sister is bugging me. She wants to eat dinner now.)

No Comment

For some reason, I wrote something in the comment section of the module evaluation sheet. Big mistake.

I really did find the Task Sheet 1 a little confusing. But that's not the point.

The head of the Education Unit wanted to find out what I thought was wrong with the Task Sheet. She doesn't really know it's me who wrote that comment. At least not yet.

I hope they're really as open-minded as they want us to believe. I don't want unwanted spotlight over a little thing as a comment.

History Taking

I took up nursing for my pre-med course. This means I've been in and out of various hospitals for the longest time. I've made a gazillion patient histories. I've done (more or less) physical exams. I've assisted in operating rooms and delivery rooms.

So the fact that, as a first year medical student, I still feel twinges of anxiety at entering a hospital and interviewing a patient is vaguely disconcerting. Interviewing. That's it. That's all we do.

But after the initial anxiety, after stepping into the ward, I find myself in my element and breeze through the history taking. It must be because of the years of experience. It all comes back and everything just flows smoothly and naturally.

Now the only thing I have to do is to learn how to write a comprehensive, grammatically correct and impressive history in a limited amount of time.

Nothing New

First year is not the most exciting phase of a medical student's life. It's the time of boring drudgery as can be seen from the fact that I've exhausted the topic on failing exams and getting frustrated about it and trying to be better one more time only to commit the same mistake the next time around.

But then, in just a few months time, I'll actually find myself in second year. And that has got to be more exciting than first year. There'll be more quizzes to fail, for one. And I'll get the chance to actually touch real live patients!

But before I get there, I have to get through tomorrow's module quiz, which I'm bound to either fail or barely pass.

The only thing remotely exciting in my monotonous existence is the fact that our research is under the watchful eye of the big wigs. We might actually get some amazing results which could revolutionize the world! (Hmmm... who am I kidding?)

So back to studying. I was actually just procrastinating.

.xoxo.

10 Months Later...

Ten months after the first day of med school... and I feel as if there's nothing much to show for it. And I'm in the Top 5 in our batch in the last Block so I hate to think how the others are faring.

Seriously... I'm not bragging or anything. It's just that I know good grades doesn't make you a good doctor. The only reason I'm hanging in the Top 5 seems to be because of my amazing psychic skills when it comes to answering multiple choice questions. That's where they get the bulk of our grades.

But when you're in the hospital, you don't get multiple choice questions. And the thing is, there are few things more dangerous than an ignorant doctor.

So I have every reason to be moderately anxious when upon self-evaluation, I realized how little I know. And I'm not even exaggerating. I wish I were. It feels a bit overwhelming... the huge amount of information I don't know and am supposed to know, I mean.

So this Christmas break, I will seriously try to read more... read in advance even. And by summer break, I plan to go over everything. It's quite a task, even without my tendency towards procrastination.

But if I get through this, I will thank myself later.

Hmmm

There's a serious glitch in my blog settings. My "View Blog" button gives me a view of what my blog was before I made some changes and started paying attention to it.

It's annoying. I'm wondering if disuse had something to do with it. It's like it's permanently frozen to whatever state I had left it in.

I don't want to have to start all over again. It's a hassle. I have too many blogs as it is.

Tidbits

One of my New Year resolutions would be to start seriously blogging. Not that I have readers. I write mostly for myself. It's therapeutic. Plus, it's an outlet for my overly-active, overly-wild, creative mind. Hey, if I didn't feel the calling of medicine too strongly, I'd be a novelist by now. (I wish.)

So I have a lot of catching up to do. A lot of things have happened since I created this blog eons ago. (How did time fly so fast?) I don't think I'd be able to write them all down. But here are a couple of tidbits. Some I'll leave like that. Others I'll elaborate later on.

1. It's Christmas Break. I hope some people are going to relax and enjoy it. Because I don't plan on doing so. (I hope I don't sound diabolical... *evil grin*)

2. Currently at Block 5, Module 2, the Respiratory System.

3. Block 4 was a bad dream.

4. The last module was a nightmare. I failed all three module quizzes. All in a row. (Ughh!) I have issues with mediocrity right now.

5. I fell two notches down in the Top 10 list in our batch. I am not happy about it. Currently at Spot Number 5. Mediocrity sucks.

6. At times, I wonder if I'm at the right school. But considering the fact that I wouldn't have met my new sort-of bestfriend and gotten extra close to a former close friend now sort-of-bestfriend, I'm glad I did. Somehow, I'll have to make up for all the handicaps I'm currently encountering.

7. Sleep is my own worst enemy.

8. I wonder if it's part of the curriculum to place medical students in really embarassing situations. Maybe it's a sort of test... You know... Along the veins of "What doesn't kill you make you stronger?"...

9. In lieu to #9, I am forever grateful to all those people who gamely allowed themselves to go through the fire of humiliation along with me. That took a lot of guts, believe me.

10. *sigh* You'd think, in a new environment, my lovelife would improve. Not a chance. It must be something genetic... like inheriting no pheromones at all. And being surrounded with a lot of good-looking to stunningly handsome medical students doesn't help at all. Oh, well. I'm moderately beautiful and intelligent. I can't have it all, right. *grin* I have to elaborate more on this later.

So that's all for now.

.xoxo.

*anonymous*

It's ironic how most of the time, one can only truly be oneself when hidden behind the mask of anonymity. And it's ironic how most of the time, I'd rather reveal my innermost thoughts to complete strangers rather than my dearest friends.

But isn't that how it is? At times, it's best to protect the ones we love from who we really are... what we really think...

I've been feeling rather restricted about the things I really wanted to write about in my other blog. (Note: I keep a lot of moderately functional and non-functional blogs.)

Of course, there are things I'd love to share with my friends... my recent medschool escapades, my latest blooper, bits and pieces of wisdom gathered here and there, etc etc. But there are things I'd rather not let them know and managing who gets to read what can be quite a hassle.

So this is what this blog is for. It's for the things I need to get out of my system but would rather not let my friends know.

In a way, it seems sad that I can only show my true self to strangers who offer no judgment... no condemnation... and who'd forget about me the next minute (that is, granting that somebody actually stumbles into this blog...) rather than the ones who truly care.

But then, that's the way it is... At least for now...

*fallible*

Fact of life: Everyone makes mistakes.

Everyone.

Everyday.

And the sooner we accept this fundamental principle of human nature, the easier it is for us to wake up in the morning and face life head-on.

However, while “to err is human”, not everyone can afford to make mistakes. And when it’s human lives you hold in your hands, you cannot dare to indulge in the luxury of second chances simply because there isn’t another one.
I missed 26 items out of 120 in my last written exam.

Carelessness accounted for some of them. Ignorance was the culprit for most.

I cannot afford to be careless! And all the more can I not afford to be ignorant!

Twenty six items may not seem like a lot. Yes, I sound like the perfect example of the classic perfectionist. Instead of being grateful for even passing such a tough exam, here I am whining. Yes, I’m seeing a half-empty glass instead of one which is half-full.

But when you’re neck-to-neck in the competition for the top spots, the slightest mistake could be your downfall. (And those twenty-six mistakes will most definitely pull me down.)

And when your job description demands perfection, every mistake counts.

Every.


If I could react this way to twenty six items in a written exam, how would I react when a mistake would not cost me a few points but a life?

Somebody’s husband… somebody’s wife… somebody’s child… somebody’s mother… or father or brother or sister or friend…

I wonder if I would ever be strong enough to carry such a heavy burden. I wonder if I could even get up in the morning with such guilt weighing heavily in my spirit.

For someday… sooner or later… there will be blood in my hands. This is a fact of life that I… and everybody who wishes to take this path… have got to face.
Frustration at my fallibility. This will perhaps be one of the most recurring themes of my life.

And that’s why I need a God. For I can never be anything but fallible. And He can never be anything but Infallible.

*when i grow up*

Remember preschool? Those were the times when we were miniature versions of ourselves. We were a whole lot cuter then, too.

“And what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Does this sound familiar?

Innocence made us believe we could conquer the world. We could be anyone we wanted to be. Teacher… lawyer… nurse… businessman… scientist… priest… seaman… astronaut…

There was no stopping our young minds. There was no limit to what we could be… when we grow up.

Young as I was, I already knew what I wanted to be. To everyone who asked this all-important question, I had only one answer.

“When I grow up, I want to be a doctor.”


Fast forward. Technically, I have now grown up.

I’ve had four graduations since then (preschool, grade school, high school, college). And I look back with fondness at that little girl who refused to be anything else but a doctor.

And I wonder… What in the world made me want to become a doctor?

Did environmental factors come into play? My mother, a nurse, often took me along with her to the hospital. I practically spent my pre-preschool days playing with tongue depressors, stethoscopes and discarded medicine boxes. But then again, I could just as easily have wanted to become a nurse. The fact is, I didn’t. It never entered my young head.

Is it genetic? There isn’t a single doctor in my direct lineage. Mine was a family of farmers and fishermen. I did have second and third degree relatives who ventured into the field, though.

I have no answer.


I’m well into my fourth month of medicine.

And I’m loving every single minute of it.

Yes, even the sleepless nights and the sleep-inducing lectures and the killing of innocent frogs. And while like perhaps every single medical student, I literally sleep on my books, there’s no satiety to my craving for knowledge. I am fascinated by the workings of the human body. I stand in awe at the majesty and beauty of it all.

I’m living my dream. Not everyone is given the chance. It’s both humbling and uplifting.

I’m a long, long, long way off from becoming a doctor. And the truth is, it will perhaps be an even longer time before I’m all grown up in every sense of the word.

But God has woven this dream into the very fabric of my soul. And that little girl who was dead set into becoming a doctor is just as stubborn now as she was then. There’s simply no stopping her

~The Night Before It All Started~

** I wrote this about two months ago, the night before it all started...



It still feels a little unreal.

Tomorrow, I’m going to start Med School. Do I need to reiterate how excited I am?

In a way, I’ve dreamed of this day for so long. Sort of. The day I would finally start training to become a doctor... I’m finally taking the first step towards the fulfillment of my childhood dream.

I’m actually going to become a doctor.

How great is that???

Tonight, let me just be naïve. Let me be just like a child on the eve of her birthday.

Reality will hit soon enough. I know that there will come a time when waking up in the morning will simply be sheer torture. The time will come when I’ll be swamped with books, pull out an all-nighters, intoxicate myself with chocolate drink (I’m not a coffee person), worry myself to death over patients and procedures, and be humiliated by residents, attendings, nurses and student nurses.

While everyone else I used to know would be getting married, married or are having kids, I’ll be having dinner dates with my books and spend Valentines at the hospital.

And I’ll wonder why I chose to forsake a ludicrous career for one which is as ruthless and thankless as Medicine.

Oh well.

Let tomorrow take care of itself.

For now, I’m a wide-eyed child… awaiting tomorrow’s presents.

~My Isaac~

It was actually a very close fight between taking up Medicine or embracing the religious life. And while I can smile about it now, those were really dark moments of despair and indecision for me.

Long story.

It was an issue of obedience to the will of the Father. At the bottom of it all was a genuine desire to give my all to Jesus with nothing holding me back.

Gnawing at the back of my mind and my heart was anguish at being unwilling to give up something I valued so much. Medicine was my Isaac. And I was in tears because I didn’t want to give him up in spite of the “signs” (or what I thought were signs).

I could still vividly remember being alone in the chapel at the middle of the night, curled up in front of the cross and crying my heart out. I just had a talk with one of the Sisters and talking with her brought out anew my love for the Lord. At that point, I loved Him so much that it hurts. But at the same time, just the thought of embracing their kind of life felt like such a dead end.

Instead of the freedom that their way of life brings, I could only feel walls closing up on me.

I woke up the next day wondering why I felt so gloomy. And then the events of last night came back to mind and I was washed afresh with misery. I honestly felt like a prisoner facing a life-sentence.

In one moment of despair, on my knees in front of the cross, I earnestly asked the Lord. “Is it medicine or the religious life?”

I cut my Bible and the pages opened to Sirach 38.

“Hold the physician in honor, for he is essential to you, and God it was who established his profession. From God, the doctor has his wisdom, and the king provides for his sustenance. His knowledge makes the doctor distinguished, and gives him access to those in authority… He endows men with knowledge to glory in his mighty works, through which the doctor eases pain and the druggist prepares his medicines; Thus the creative work continues without cease in its efficacy on the surface of the earth.”

The issue didn’t end there however. There was still much soul searching and conversations with people so much wiser than am I.

I placed my future at His feet and decided to let go of my Isaac. I held on instead to the truth that my God knew what was best for me. But it wasn’t a one-time thing however… letting go of Isaac, I mean. It was about three years of tug-of-war.

But in the end, with His leading, the pieces started falling into place…

My parents were incredibly supportive. (They knew I wanted to become a doctor since I was a kid so they were more or less prepared for it.) I did so badly during the NMAT (National Medical Admission Test) that I considered it a sign if I didn’t score above 50. I got 88 and I just knew it was pure grace. I graduated cum laude and was thus instantly entitled to a 50% discount at my school of choice. We’re not rich but I noticed there’s always money available for my tuition fee, books, uniform, board and lodging, allowance and even two new pairs of jeans.

My life is blessed beyond belief and now I’m pretty sure that I’m doing the will of my Father. It all doesn’t end with an MD at the end of my name, however.

At this point, I am still open for wherever the Father leads me… even if it should, in the end, be a religious calling. It is simply not possible to give myself fully to the Lord when I am keeping something back for myself.

It is only through sacrifice that my Isaac would be restored to me.

Surfing, Medicine & Jesus

“I’ve come to learn that the thing you fall in love with is the same thing that’s going to beat the living daylights out of you. The journey will hit you hard. You will have to lose it all. You will wonder why you haven’t already given up. You’ll wonder what could possibly be worth the effort.”

A wise young man penned those words. He was talking about surfing. And in a much deeper sense, “regeneration”… losing ourselves to find Life… to find Jesus.

While surfing is one of the parallels of his Christian faith, mine is Medicine. (I have never ever in my life, ridden on a surfboard… even one that’s not floating on water.)

But the essence remains the same.

I’ve come to realize that my Christian life is not in a box separate to that of Medicine. Both are intertwined, each thread woven into each other forming that perfect tapestry which is called my life.

This blog is a chronicle of my journey through Medicine… a journey through my Life.

Written here will be my struggles, my joys, my downfalls and my triumph as I walk in the footsteps of no other than the Healer himself.

I’m not walking into Medicine blindly. I have no glorious illusions of being some sort of demi-god placed in a pedestal, gifted with the healing touch which would cure body and soul. I have no glorious illusions of riches and a life of comfort.

Medicine is ruthless. It can take you to the darkest pit of humanity, cut you off from the things and the people you love, steal from you the best years of your life and drain you of your very essence until you’re left empty, wondering if it’s worth it all.

“But then. That single moment of glory comes. You stand up, and you are alive again. This is the essence of “regeneration”. We lose ourselves for that single glorious moment that confirms there is still hope for us.”