The scalpel is mightier than the sword...

NEW STUFF!!! PRETTY STUFF!!!

2009-09-16T03:14:00.004+10:00

You guys, my medical building's been revamped! Well, ok, that's not entirely true as it turns out that my school is chronically underfunded and whoring out all of its facilities in an attempt to repay all its debt (but you didn't hear that from me, ok?) Specifically, the basement of the medical building has been renovated. And it is delicious. We have new lockers. And bathrooms. With showers. And a kitchenette with a goddamn microwave and hot/cold water filters. And lounges. And two breath takingly beautiful new lecture theatres. (Where did the school get the money from? Beats me.)

I know, right? Why don't I just make love to the carpet or something equally questionnable? It's not that I'm crazy about interior design or anything but if you've spent the better part of two years walking through a building that was erected during your great grandparent's time and smells like formalin and gym socks, you'd understand.

If you ignore the part where the student's basement is located right next to the morgue, where we store all our DEAD PEOPLE, it's kind of great! Not so awesome at 3:18AM though, when you're the only person left in the entire fucking building and you're beginning to think that it's the perfect zombie film plot.

Medical students and mental health

2009-09-03T10:32:00.003+10:00

So like, I know I sort of dropped off the face of the planet for the past couple of weeks (months) because I sort-of-broke, a la Meredith Grey. (See what I just did? I made a pop culture reference to Grey's Anatomy in an attempt to bridge the divide between anonymous blogger and audience.) I haven't been depressed per se, just very withdrawn, unmotivated and somewhat at a loss.

I've been debriefing a lot with my family and support network because, truth is, I seriously considered leaving medicine all together. I realise that this is something that every medico faces at some point in their education and careers but for the most part, my doubts about continuing had nothing to do with medicine at all. (Which, in hindsight, should've been enough to make me realise that leaving would've been the stupidest decision of my life, had I gone through with it.). I felt that I had to leave (at least temporarily) to try and get my personal life sorted out.

The Australian Medical Student's Association (AMSA) published another great issue of Panacea. I mention it because this issue focused mostly on the psychological wellbeing of medical students. (Give the entire issue a read here.) Here's a quote from a truly insightful article that my friend wrote for the issue-- it struck a chord with me.

Stigma is a negative stereotype that is overgeneralised.
In the case of stress or mental illness, medical
students associate feelings of weakness, shame and
embarrassment with seeking support. They worry about
whether counselling services are really confidential and
how accessing help will impact on future job prospects.
Stigma has such a profound effect that almost a third
of depressed medical students cite it as a barrier for
accessing treatment.

- James Hillus, Stigma: Enough is Enough,
Panacea Winter Edition 2009, AMSA Publications

It's a loaded issue. I'm sure I'll make a proper blog post about it after my exam (which is in 9 days). On a more light hearted note, University of Sydney are hosting their annual Med Revue this week! Make sure you hit it up if you're bored and in need of a good laugh!

The holiday update.

2009-07-06T22:12:00.004+10:00

I'm on holidays at the moment. It's nice to not have to wake up and think about medicine, you know? Killer exam actually went much better than I expected. There was a party on that night for medlings which I was supposed to go to but, uh, that didn't work out too well. It's not the first time it's happened (or even the second, I think.) It's an alarming trend and I should stop telling people I'll be attending these things. During the exam itself, you're completely alert. You're on your game. You're in the zone. Everything's like a shotgun-- yes, yes, YES! When the academic stiff says "pens down," it's like your body takes it as a cue to call in its sleep debt and shut down. The sleepless nights suddenly catch up with you and all the caffeine in your system seems to vanish. Afterwards, you just feel like crap. Your hair's so greasy you can fry chicken in it, you're suddenly aware that the exam hall isn't keeping out the winter cold and you become self-conscious of the fact that you're wearing your pyjama pants and a food-stained jersey.

During the teaching session, it's easy to forget that you're a stupid teenager. Anyways, despite being on holidays, I've worked out a few extra clinic hours with my teaching hospital. I guess I'm still a medical junkie at heart. Today was sort of rediculous though. I made the effort of showing up at 9am only to find out that my facilitator's off with some mysterious "personal issues" and that I'm stuck following around a random SMO with an ego bigger than my ass during exam periods. Yeah. Not doing that again. My tweets give you a rough idea of how rediculous today was. Be warned, it's kind of pissy and cussy.

I'm currently reading Direct Red by Gabriel Weston. Excellent book. I recommend it.

Most embarrassing .

2009-06-11T20:19:00.004+10:00

See Twitter; was at hospital today for a lecture on taking pediatric histories. Afterwards, we were allowed to run amok in the children's hospital and "get a feel for the place". Everyone took that as their cue to the get the hell out ASAP, but I did some exploring and found the super secret student's mess in the neurology wing and decided to get some work done. Fast forward to the part where I finished off my second Red Bull and started dancing vigorously to Lady Gaga's 'Paparazzi' on my iPod and couldn't hear when Dr Very Important Neurologist walked in with a coffee cup. He started sniggering and I reflexively covered my ID with my hand. Arghhh FML. It felt like a sitcom situation. These things aren't supposed to happen in real life.

On a not so mortifying note, anybody who doesn't already follow Cinammon Anna should head over there as her blog is incredibly upbeat and fun. I think our Star Trek obsessions were rekindled at roughly the same time. For me, this is terrible timing as I have another of those bitchin' exams on the 25th. I'm constantly torn between doing a marathon of the original series and studying. Ok, ok, ok, I'll shut up about Star Trek already.

Elsevier Saunders needs to buy me lunch.

2009-06-04T00:09:00.008+10:00

Yes, that is a urine sample jar on my shelf. I've got no idea where it came from, so don't ask. The distortion represents the wooziness I felt when I added up the total cost of this lot.

Anatomy, physiology, pathology, pathophysiology, histology, embryology, pharmacology, biochemistry, microbiology, stats... As for communications and ethics, I can talk myself into forking out for science but there's no way I'm spending $120 on a book that boils down to "Be friendly and do the right thing, OR ELSE." I got panicked today when I realised that I'm going to have to grab another four textbooks this year (Gray's Anatomy, Clinical Examination, Dale's Pharmacology and Male's Immunology). I'm adding up prices in my head and it's pretty miserable. (How did I get through first year withough Gray's, you ask? Wikipedia, I say.)

When it comes to medical textbooks, I've come up with three rules. Firstly, the thicker the better. Also, trust the books that have about a squillion editions preceding it. Most importantly though, if it's published by Elsevier-We're-Going-To-Take-All-Your-Money-Saunders, you're set. A heady combination of Robbins and Guyton is supposed to cover you for a while, but if you're like me and are excessively paranoid about Guyton's lacklustre neurophysiology....

Random things I feel I ought to mention.

2009-06-02T04:02:00.003+10:00

Damn you and your beautiful face, Zachary Quinto. Generally, I keep my geekiness quiet. By geekiness, I mean I'm a closet Trekkie with a very problematic Spock crush. In the words of a Wikipedian, "Quinto brings a bit more chill to the character [than Nimoy]." I like my men half Vulcan and chilly. I've spent the past couple of days doing a Star Trek original series marathon. Ergo, I turn up to morning lectures looking like death.

Anyways, let's talk about less important things. I recently picked up my copy of Robbins & Cotran's Pathologic Basis of Disease. Yes, it was bloody expensive but good god, the book is genius. Not to mention heavy. (Have I mentioned my theory that book quality is directly proportional to metric mass?) I've already uploaded it to my Elsevier Saunders online library (because we all love hoarding and collecting things) but at the end of the day, book is lighter than bricky laptop. It looks quite funny sticking out of my bag. Some students have ripped out the spine and loosened the sheets so as to only carry the relevant readings about. It's smart, but it's also sacrilege.

Forgot to mention; our annual Med Revue was a few weeks ago. Was very terrible. I was falling asleep and left during the intermission with some meddies from a different school to go eat Indian food. The skits were centred around first years faking orgasms. Not kidding. Incidentally, a bunch of Conservative Looking Asian Parents were watching in the backrow. I assume they were there to cheer on their seriously over-coddled spawn. How awkward. I mean, why would you want your parents to see that?

It's 4:22am. I'm going to start on some anatomy. Coffee number three, LET'S GO.

Kids these days...

2009-05-22T23:56:00.007+10:00

I'm about halfway through my second round of embryology, and being a second years means I've got more assignments and clinical days. Funnily enough, one of these assignments involves sitting around for three hours every week at a children's daycare centre to observe "developmental behaviour".

I hate psychology. Believe me when I say I don't use this word lightly.

Kids have a discomfort/awkwardness radar. This attracts them.

I am terrible with kids.

Kids are nothing like they used to be. Back in my day...

So, besides spending most of my time devoting Larsen's Human Embryology to memory, I have to somehow come up with meaningful observations and interactions with little people. Do you have any idea how stressful this crap is? And is it just me, or are all kids kind of nuts? And how come some people are so good with them? And why are they all so tech savvy? Do their workaholic parents teach them how to make excel spreadsheets?

There is no reasoning with children. Don't call me crass. We're not talking general theory of relativity here, we're talking "So what did you have for breakfast today?" (Which was met with a rather angry "I don't want to tell you!") For chrissake, pumpkin pie. Sigh. Here are some excerpts.

Kid: Why are you wearing lots of blue? Are you going to a party?
M: No? And my jumper isn't blue. Don't you think it's more purple?
Kid: Like grapes?
M: Yeah. Like grapes.
Kid: I hate grapes. Mum makes me eat them. [gets angry]

M: What's your favourite game?
Kid: THROWING!!!

M: Ok, I'll see you next week.
[Kids laugh manically]

I'm really paranoid that these little gremlins are plotting my demise (i.e. they'll find my corpse facedown in the sandbox, with a plastic spade wedged between T5/T6). I'm a little concerned about this fixation on "moulding kids" at pre-school, too. Yeah, fine motor skills are great, but it's not a neurosurgery training program. Just ease up a little on the Fruit-o-Mathics booklets and give them more room to explore their mutual craziness. I'm no Piaget, but it sounds sort of logical. It's not that often your life gets to revolve around play dough and wood blocks.

I mean, it's how pre-school went for me and I turned out pretty normal. (Snicker.)

Someone needs less time on their hands.

2009-05-03T10:11:00.004+10:00

From the clinic at UTAS.

W. Harvey missed out.

2009-04-22T18:08:00.019+10:00

My past month at school has been pretty heavy. No, I'm not having "Maybe I should leave..." thoughts, but I am having "My life would be so much easier if I just did commerce studies or something..." thoughts. It's probably a very ungrateful thought to have but everybody has them. When this happens, you need some inspiration. When it doesn't come to you, you have to go out and sieze it by the horns. Force your way into an operating room, clock in some extra clinic hours (I don't even think we're allowed to do this.)... Or something.

Or if you're me, you just throw lots of money at the problem and hope it goes away. I've been reading Catharsis: On the Art of Medicine by some cardiologist guy with a really complicated name. (No disrespect intended, Andrzej.) It's slow and reads like prose fiction, but it's not bad. I'm too lateral-thinking and stupid to appreciate poetry, philosophy or history of medicine, but I sort of get the rough idea. (I'm the girl who falls asleep in art galleries.) Point is, it did nothing to inspire me. Kind of pointless. Like giving aspirin to a schizophrenic.

A week or so ago, I had a physiology lab class on CVS microcirculation. Once our toads were distributed and anaesthetised, chopped open and mounted on dissecting microscopes, we had to study the circulation. (My toad seemed intent on staying awake; it took about ten minutes of dousing with MS-222, pulling its leg and poking its eye before I was satisfied the little bugger was under.) I realise this is a really stupid sounding post but it was INTERESTING TO ME. I'd never seen blood moving through vessels before. Everything up until then was static images and text.

Watching single erythrocytes squeeze themselves through capillaries and two rushing streams of blood converge at a vein--fastslowfast--is hypnotic. I'm not going to get all "river of life" on you, but anyone whose seen it probably understands what I'm talking about. You can't help but stand back for a small moment and simply marvel at the biological complexity of life. (I'm deliberately ommitting the part where I had to induce a hemorrhage by cutting the femoral artery and finished up by cutting out the BEATING HEART! which was STILL BEATING ALL OVER THE DISSECTION PLATE! and dumped the lot in the bin. DAMN YOU, FRIGHTENING PURKINJE FIBRES!)

On another note, I had a formative exam on Friday. ("Formative exam" means "If you fail this exam, chances are, you'll fail the real one! So we're watching you!") I'm pretty happy with how I went. The histology component went much better than I expected. What jerked my chain though was the physiology. I put in so many hours (MANY, MANY HOURS.) but still managed to stuff up a three of the questions. All the MCQs were "Choose the BEST answer," or "Choose the MOST correct answer," which made me want to shoot myself in the eye. Oh yeah, and I said prenatal erythropoiesis occurs in the yolk sac. And I labelled periostum as perichondrium. Clearly, I am going to be surgeon general. So hands up! Who wants me as their doctor?!

And now, for something completely different, I'll leave you with a labelled photo of my handbag before I go back to my study hole.

Click for larger image

Exhaustion.

2009-04-19T19:01:00.003+10:00

Feeling really crazy at the moment, and it's not just the caffeine intoxication speaking here. It's the exhaustion at being given a week off uni, only to find that it's even more taxing than formal classes. First day back (i.e. TOMORROW), we have a massive assignment due. First Friday back is exams. Naturally, nobody (well, at least no self-respecting student) went anywhere or really did anything. We were all stuck indoors, hating this module with all our weary hearts.

It's really tiring having to drag yourself out of bed for a 9am lecture when you've only had three, maybe four hours of sleep. It's impossibly tiring when you have nothing but sheer will to get you out of bed during the holidays on the same lack of sleep.

I'm not exactly sure why people assume that the undergraduate medical route is any easier than the graduate route. It may be slightly more competitive, but the work load is still a slap in the face. It's difficult to explain to your extended family why you have to miss so-and-so's christening, why you're falling asleep on their sofa and why you have obscure drug names scribbled onto your arm.

All I can say for sure is I'm tired. I'm absolutely exhausted. I know I signed up for this and all, knowing that this is what it'd be like, but I'm going to be self indulgent for a while and just whinge. Generally, I'm the one who talks people out of these moods. To be able to keep your knees from bucking under the workload, you have to approach it with a certain coolness. To dedicate yourself to completing long term goals like six years worth of medical education, you have to be focused. There's a quiet, inner-peace and resolve you have to develop if you don't already have it. It's the stuff that keeps you awake at night as you blindly memorise bookshelves.

But right now, I'm just freaking out and wondering why I didn't tick the "business studies" box on the careers form.

The lanyard policy.

2009-04-04T20:01:00.007+11:00

Figure 1. Aerial view of the line with interjecting doctor

making a beeline to the receptionist, walking in front of a photo

So there was a mix up with my hospital ID. Those that follow my twitter would know that there was a very long line of people waiting for their 2009 tags. Why they all chose that specific day to renew and obtain their IDs remains a mystery to me. Maybe it's a hospital thing. Amongst us "phase one students" (i.e. idiot junior students) were nurses and a few senior medical students who looked painfully tired.

After a lot of inefficient mucking around, my school had arranged for us to have our photos taken on campus so that they could be emailed to hospital security for IDs to be made and sent back, after which we'd be able to collect them from the student office within two days. Fail proof method, right? Scoff. Obviously, a bunch of them all got lost. Naturally, mine was one of them.

The hospital that I'm now located at is very paranoid about things like ID-- every single one must be accounted for. There's a list that your name goes on if you lose your ID card. A List. You have to notify them immediately if you lose your ID. None of that wishy-washy 48 hour timeframe that those lazy government passport departments give you. We mean freakin' immediately. This is understandable. A little paranoid, but still understandable. What I don't get is the lanyards. They're paranoid about the lanyards.

"All students must have a hospital identification card. The card should be attached to a lanyard supplied by the clinical school and be clearly visible at all times. "

After waiting for about twenty minutes because medical officers kept butting into the line and generally shafting aside anybody not wearing scrubs (METAPHORS!), I finally managed to have this conversion about "$10" and the hospital's lanyard policy.

M:
My ID card was one of bunch that didn't make it to the School.
I was told to come here to have one made.
I've got my identification papers with me--

Security Lady:
Hmm. Fill out this form.
It'll cost you $10 to replace the lost one.

M:
But I didn't lose it. I can't get a "replacement"
because I never got one in the first place.

Security Lady:
You still have to declare that it was lost.
Fill out the form.

[Lady watches M finish filling out the form]

Security Lady:
Ok, now that's $10 for the replacement card.

Anyways, after convincing the security nazi that I didn't owe the hospital TEN WHOLE DOLLARS and my card was printing, we had another little exchange.

M:
Could I please grab a hospital lanyard while I'm here?

Security Lady:
[shrewd, calculating glare, as if I steal lanyards from hospitals
and operate an illegal lanyard store off the back of a truck]
Why didn't you get one from the school?

M:
I couldn't pick up my ID from the school office so I assumed
I'd have to pick everything up from here.

Security Lady:
We sent a specific number of lanyards to your school. We're not
in the habit of giving extras to students. They're as important as your
identification card. Today's your lucky day.
[grudgingly hands one over]

Yeah. They say some battles are won by retreating. I decided it'd be in my better interests to not argue the point. Ultimately, I learnt two things. 1) NEVER LOSE YOUR ID CARD and 2) DON'T TRY AND STEAL THEM ENTICING LANYARDS.

Muscle Physiology 101: Help a drowning student!

2009-03-29T00:08:00.003+11:00

Confused, bewildered and more than a little frustrated. If any kind, generous soul is willing to share their notes/tips with me, I'll give you my first born son. Seriously. I'm using Guyton at the moment but the man has some serious problem with visual aids. Either that or I'm just really stupid and shouldn't be a doctor.

Grrr.

They giveth and they taketh away...

2009-03-06T22:05:00.012+11:00

By some amazingly lucky twist of fate, I had no school today. Those who are familiar with my timetabling woes should understand that this is probably the single greatest thing that's happened to me since my discovery of No-Doz and getting into med school. I've been gloriously sick for the past few days. (From doing laps at a public swimming pool. Pure-- albeit disgusting-- irony.)

After scraping through the most asinine details of acute inflammation until about one in the morning, I pulled up my ever changing timetable to check which god foresaken lecture would be owning my ass in the morning. The timetable is empty. I immediately freaked out, thinking that something was wrong. This has grave implications, damnit! What if I've been using the wrong timetable since Monday?! Have I missed compulsory classes?! AM I GOING TO GET KICKED OUT?! So I re-downloaded it, only to find that the fresh copy had a blank Friday. Everything else seemed to be in order. What was this devilry?! Was it a trick to see which students would have the balls and dedication to call up and confirm?! And then show up anyways?! Surely someone else would have realised in advance that tomorrow was a free day and trumpeted it from the rooftops? A three day weekend, for chrissake. Three. This couldn't be right.

Boyfriend:

What time is it? [groggy]

Do we have school tomorrow?!

Boyfriend:

What? Of course we do? It's one in the morning?!

THE. TIMETABLE. IS. EMPTY.

Boyfriend:

... [suddenly very awake] Huh? What?

THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE TIMETABLE!

Boyfriend:

Oh my god, what the ****?!

Eventually, we concluded that it must have been some glitch and boyfriend agreed to give the student consultant a call tomorrow at 7:30am to see what was happening. What if we actually had very important, life-changing classes scheduled? What if some students didn't get the MO and ended up missing out on what we might later recall as the greatest day of our medical education? ("What if we do have a free day? Should we do something?" "Don't plan ahead! If it turns out to be wrong, we'll be devastated. Devastated.")

I tried not to get my hopes up too much but I was already making plans in my head. There was the huge backlog of dirty clothing that needed to be laundered, the kitchen needed to be restocked, my notes needed printing and binding, my room desperately needs cleaning, the car needs petrol...

It's hard to believe that four days back at school can throw you off so much. This should probably be A Very Big Deal Pertaining to the Wellbeing of All Medical Students and thus dealt with as such but, honestly, it'll only piss me off. I take things seriously by default but if it means acknowledging the sheer amount of crap that comprises my medical education, it'll only make me bitter. I'd rather just laugh at it. The internet's already inundated with proactive med students bitching about med school-- many of whom can do it far better than I. Perhaps I'll throw my two cents in one day, seeing as my school goes out of its way to appear as though it's anything but conventional. Ba humbug.

First day back... So technically, this post should be from the 2nd March.

2009-03-04T11:17:00.011+11:00

6:00

Rudely awoken by my alarm. Oh my god it's 6am. Stumble about, looking for clean clothes. Run into the shower, cussing internally. Vaguely recall thinking that if someone invented a magic spray that would fulfil the same purpose as a shower, they could be the president of earth. Pour coffee beans into the espresso machine and eat a banana while waiting for life elixir.

9:00

The lecture hall still has that polished wood smell. It's quite comforting to be back after that glorious three month holiday. Feeling inspired. Wonder where all the third years are? Oh, that's right, they have a massive "End of Phase Examination" on Friday which is as intimidating as it sounds. Fail it and you're on some serious academic probation. The third years that are making use of the campus seem depressed, sleepy, anxious and are eating chocolate. There's a rumour going around that student X locked themselves in the bathroom and had a panic attack. Decide to avoid third years for fear of being used as a stress toy,

11:00

Snack on a long black and blueberry bagel with scenario group friends. Harass a first year to show us their "Face to Face" booklet. All the first years submit a photo and a paragraph on themselves to our school, which then compiles it, prints it off and distributes it amongst them. There were a few standouts such as the 23 year old mother/ex-fashion designer, a SIXTEEN YEAR OLD and a really good looking guy whom we later found out was/is a model. Realised our year is very boring in comparison. Contemplate repeating first year for entertainment value.

15:00

Early finish! Decide to do some long overdue shopping with TRUE PURPOSE. As they say, the key to MINIMISING SPENDING and MAXIMISING SAVINGS during these trying times is to buy only what you need. I need comfortable new black shoes for clinicals as my old ones have vanished. Yes, vanished. I'm skirting any responsibility because I don't lose things. I just don't. I haven't lost so much as an eraser in the past two years, let alone my clinic shoes. The reason I mention this is because I didn't end up getting shoes but ended up getting a new phone and the burguny Littmann I was craving.

Cricket chirp.

Hypocricy rocks when the economy needs stimulating, folks. I'm going to use the Impulse Phone to make more frequent/interesting updates with photos. Yes, RL photos. IN REAL TIME. And I have Twitter now. I'm unsure what this means yet, but I suspect I'll be using my blog a lot more.

"Are you sure you want to be a doctor?"

2009-02-05T21:25:00.004+11:00

My mother took me out to lunch a few days ago at a posh restaurant (NB: I did remind her that we were in a recession). Naturally, the place was teeming with suits exploiting their corporate lunch privileges and business women sporting designer handbags. This sparked the following conversation...

Mother:

You know Other Woman's Daughter is doing a cadetship with Ernst & Young? She's earning $35000 a year with commissions, while they pay for her commerce degree. And she's only just finished first year! She's your age! You know she had a lower UAI than you?! She didn't even get 99.00! They're giving her a contract for the next two years.

Commerce isn't an expensive degree.

Mother:

...

Mother:

The money in medicine isn't good. The hours are bad. If you do surgery, you'll be in your thirties before you pay off all your debt. Are you sure you still want to be a doctor? It's ok if you change your mind.

Holidays are boring.

2009-01-27T17:46:00.003+11:00

Hey all. I haven't died, I've just found the meaning of FUN. (This is a lie.) I went back to tutoring full time for a few weeks so my holidays pretty much consisted of waking up early, drinking coffee and teaching highschool chemistry (which I am ashamed to admit I'd sort of, like, forgotten). Then, I'd come home and DIE.

Anyways, since this blog purports to have something to do with my medical education, I think I should say something. School starts again in March. I'll be a second year student. Pretty uneventful but it's worth a mention because it means I'll be entering the second half of the first of three two year phases. Hah, medical school, I one-sixth own you. As you can see, my life is a never ending party.

Last night, my dad's side of the family congruated to celebrate the Lunar New Year (we east asians have a superiority complex, ergo CNY becomes LNY). In between hitting a defenceless clump of rice cake with a mallet (I kid you not), conversations I had with relatives were all "Are you enjoying medicine?" "What are you going to specialise in?" "When do you graduate?" and "Can you tutor my kids?"

Happy New Year, have some maxillon.

2009-01-01T15:16:00.006+11:00

Last night was Sydney NYE. For those who don't live in a stunning harbour city with fireworks to kick off the transition from one year to the next, let's just take it as a given that it is a night of heavy partying. It's been a tradition for my partner and I to go to R's every NYE as they live in a massive harbour front mansion and nobody throws better parties than his parents.

To make a very long story short, R's parents, R and I ended up driving one of the guests to a major hospital's emergency department. For alcohol poisoning. (For shame.) Being NYE, it was a good wait, despite it being 4:10am. "We'll give him some ~~maxillon~~ maxalon and stick a banana bag into him." By the time we got back to R's place after leaving, it was around 7am. Partner had been waiting for me with a cup of tea and commandeered the large sofa. (I felt very lucky to have him at that point.)

It wasn't how I'd planned on spending my new years but it felt somewhat comforting to walk around wards again and use as much hand sanitizer as possible. (I missed the smell.) Partner shook his head and told me I was crazy. Happy new year, everyone.

EDIT: I thought I should add, there were a hell of a lot of patients in the emergency department that night. Some in much worse condition than others. We watched a man being gurneyed past towards the ICU, missing a leg. We later found out from one medical officers that he'd been in a really bad accident on a highway and he'd been left laying there for a good few minutes before someone stopped to get help. Christ.

My regular GP is in Prague.

2008-12-24T00:27:00.006+11:00

GP: So what university do you go to?
M: [Replies]

GP: Ahh.

*GP carries on with physical for a few minutes*

GP: So what are you studying there?
M: ... Medicine.

GP: Ahh.

*Consultation finishes, both leave examination room*

GP: What year are you in?

M: First year.

*GP watches as I push open door, about to leave*

GP: Come back when you graduate!

Most. Staggered. Rapport. Ever. It was as if he only had one topic of conversation and had to drag it over the entire consultation, lest I think poorly of his communication skills or something. It's unsettling when there are long, unexplainable pauses in an otherwise sane conversation. That and I hate telling my GPs that I'm a medical student. It makes me feel like an utter moron.

I hear it's Christmas.

2008-12-08T21:19:00.009+11:00

Sorry about the ambiguous/grouchy post. I'm over my funk now. My parents and sibling are still in England with "The Family" but the house is no longer messy and the cleaning lady's back to her once a week visit. The real reason for this is because my boyfriend decided he might as well live with me and keep me company over the holidays. I feel compelled to pull my weight around the house now that it's inhabited by more than one person but I'm having a pill of a time dealing with his need to assert the holiday season. ("It's Christmas. Christmas. Christmas.")

Perhaps it's because my childhood Christmases were generally a lesson in jetlag and culture shock but I've never really taken to the holiday season. I have vague recollections of trying to stay awake at the utterly terrifying dinner tables while relatives I'd never met before would thrust all manner of objects into my pockets. (When you're six years old, having sashimi, kimchi and roasted animals on the same table is like being confronted by aliens.) As both sets of my grandparents are Korean expats living in England/Japan, it's up to my parents to decide which side of the family we'll be spending the holidays with. Don't ask me how or why it works-- I've decided it's simpler just to hate globalisation and marvel at how my parents manage to stay so conservative despite it all.

I'm not sure how seriously I'll be taking the Christmas thing this year. I've got a feeling I'm going to be roped into cooking and decorating a plastic tree so we'll see how it goes. We've decided to exchange gifts this year and I'm trying to... subtly... hint... that I would like a Littman Cardiology III with burgundy tubing. (Because, you know, all first years need their own embarrassingly excessive stethoscope to go with those hyperinflated egos.) A few months after this hilarious event, Partner bit the bullet and finally went to our medsoc bookshop and bought himself the cardio III in navy, giving me steth-envy. (I've been using a ratty, second hand Welch Allyn. Not very useful if you're trying to auscultate S3 with the bell but it still looks impressive when draped around your neck, a la Hollywood.)

In all seriousness though, I just need a practical student's steth.

Some excuses as to why I'm not blogging.

2008-12-01T10:00:00.005+11:00

1. My entire family decided to leave for England just before my exams and won't be back until early January so the house has become a UN certified war zone. Case in point; the usually charming cleaning lady damned me to my own filth, despite coming in twice a week. It took me a few minutes to find my laptop.

2. Currently, I'm living off rice crackers, fruit in various stages of decay and lime cordial. In all honesty, life just turned itself on its head and I don't really give enough of a rat's ass to cook or do anything else that seems mildly conducive towards, you know, living. Case in point; it's 12:06pm and I'm still wearing my pyjamas. Surely I'm eligible for a humanitarian food drop by now?

3. Non-sequitur. You would think that being 25 and on the cusp of finishing one's medical degree would disqualify an individual from relying on Facebook to convey passive aggression but THINK AGAIN! Apparently, it's complicated. (Trust me, I'm sniggering at the postmodernity of it all.)

Surgexperiences 211: "Without struggle, there is no progress."

2008-11-25T09:34:00.012+11:00

Good evening all!

Apologies about the lateness of this issue but fear not, my tardiness in no way reflects the quality of this round's submissions. This round's theme is one that is rather close to my heart. Surgery, for whatever reasons, is a defining act. Regardless of our respective roles in the operating room--whether it be as patient, surgeon or orderly-- it forces us to acknowledge our own mortality, our limitations and our boundaries. Though an old cliche, it is the struggle that gives shape.

Bongi at Other Things Amanzi writes about his recent experiences at a state hospital desperately short on surgeons. Despite stepping in to help at the eleventh hour, an operation that goes overtime makes one question the extent to which one's efforts are appreciated. On the flip side, we get a glimpse into what it's like when our struggles are vindicated. In the tradition of providing reflective and thoughtful posts, Bongi also writes about a patient who is left entirely to the mercy of his family. "It is such a pity then when those very people who prevented this vent their misplaced wrath on the very people who did their best with the presented material and tried to help."

Pierre-Phillip writes about Geoff Williams; the plastic surgeon who does reconstructive surgery in developing countries. Truly, it challenges our perception of the plastic surgeon. On the same note, Justin Stanton raises a provocative issue over at Surgery Lowdown; refusing cosmetic surgery to smokers. One can not help but wonder where the role of the surgeon begins and ends when it comes to intervening in a patient's lifestyle.

Steve takes us into the patient's point of view and talks about his experiences with congenital heart disease and coming out on top.

Øystein over at The Sterile Eye writes about a harrowing medical error that wouldn't have been out of place on an episode of Grey's Anatomy. Reflecting this issue's theme of progressing and grappling with challenges, he notes "Surgeons are not omnipotent deities, although they do have our lives in their hands. We should demand that they do their very best, but we cannot demand that they never do any mistakes." In this case, we find that it is the surgeons who can learn from the patient.

Ribates at Suture for a Living discusses medical method patents and in doing so, raises some very cautious questions. "... The American Medical Association (AMA) House of Delegates voted in 1994 to oppose the practice of medical and surgical procedure patents as unethical. The patent system, to the extent "it keeps new procedures secret for long periods of time and limits free access to information that improves patient care," according to Nancy Dickey M.D. ... conflicts with the principles of the Hippocratic Oath, which calls upon physicians to share their expertise freely and to teach their colleagues for the benefit of patients source."

On the other side of the same coin, she calls on the idea of progress and innovation within surgery. Quoting one Doctor Clayman, "The question arises, at what point along the creative continuum does a minor variation on a theme become an innovation?" To what extent may surgeons be complacent with stagnancy in a field that is met with growing challenges-- whether they be political, social or ethical? Change is daunting; in itself, a challenge.

Theresa on Rural Doctoring makes a post that echoes the sentiment of being unable to see the forest for the trees. A young child is diagnosed with an advanced retinoblastinoma at the age of five, compiling on her already significant disease. A painful submission, it highlights how exclusionary and fragmented the Western approach to medicine can be.

Jeffrey over at Monash Medical Student points us in the direction of some rather disquieting news articles, including the story of an Australian woman regaining consciousness in the middle of her surgery. Kevin over at KevinMD is kind enough to link us to some eye-opening coverage of a woman found to have a pork tapeworm in her brain. ("Moral of the story: wash your hands, cook your pork.")

Saif, a pre-med student at U.C. Davis, recounts an epiphany had during his early medical rotations. "I also realized that, you don't want to be stuck in your comfort zone, because prevents you learning, changing, and gaining new perspectives... I think it takes a lot of maturity to know why one want's to become doctor. Through my rotational experiences, I'm slowly getting a handle on the reason I want to become a doctor." A favourite of mine, he seems to articulate what all newly minted medical students are wringing their hands over.

SurgeXperiences is a blog carnival about surgical blogs, wherein surgical experiences are shared. It is open to all (surgeon, nurse, anesthesia, patient, radiologist, pathologist, etc) who have a surgical blog or article to submit. The next edition of SurgeXperiences (213) will be hosted by Israel-based anesthesiologist Quietus Leo at "The Sandman" on 7 Dec, 2 weeks from now. Be sure to submit your post via this form.

A good laugh.

2008-11-20T13:00:00.003+11:00

Partner: How did I not know you spoke Spanish?
M: I don't know. It just never came up.
Partner: We've been dating for nearly two years... How can I not know this?!
M: ... It's not a difficult language.
Partner: You're Korean. How can you possibly speak Spanish! What else haven't you told me?!

The night before A&E 1 exam...

2008-11-12T19:52:00.002+11:00

Actual conversation with a Notoriously Lazy Student (NLS)

NLS: M, what's thalassemia?
M: It's in lecture 14 by Dr [Anatomist Who Doesn't Use Gloves When Handling Cadavers]
NLS: I can't find it :(
M: Ok. Do you know about haemoglobin protein chains?
NLS: WTF it has protein chains?!?!?! I'm so screwed.
M: ... Don't worry, you have until 8:45am!

Hosting Surgexperiences 211; a call for submissions!

2008-11-11T18:55:00.011+11:00

Hey, all. I've been called to host Surgexperiences 211, the only blog carnival dedicated to surgical experiences. In order to continue the tradition of inspiring and reflective stories that this carnival in reknown for, make sure you submit your posts via this form before the publishing date and check back on the 23rd of November for your fortnightly dose.

The theme for this issue will be "Without struggle, there is no progess." Many of the submissions so far have dealt remarkably with this and there are some excellent posts to look forward to; thus it's with humility that I pick up where our last host left off. (Though do feel free to submit any surgical stories beyond the scope of the theme.) I hope that this issue will serve to highlight the various ways in which surgery presents itself as a challenge within our lives-- whether it be as patients, family or physicians-- and how we reflect upon the experience.

Looking forward to reading your submissions!

A little bit crazy.

2008-10-31T12:12:00.008+11:00

Yesterday was a bitch of a day. I discovered Cheerios and No-Doz caffeine pills last week, ergo I woke up at 5:45am. Considering all the deadlines and whatnot, I suppose it was a good thing. I spent the last week at a desk, grazing on vending machine produce and put on about half a kilo. (For a person as short as I am, this is a Very Bad Thing.)

So, I threw my "professional" clothes in my backpack and headed off to The Beach, which is a twenty minute walk from the hospital where my clinical sessions are held. (Anybody who lives in Australia and knows something about medical schools has probably sussed out which uni I'm at, but I like to pretend I'm still writing through an impenetrable wall of anonymity.) Also, I'm deliberately refraining from saying "my hospital." (Just you wait until I get my MBBS. Pride of ownership.)

You know that really awkward situation when you're running and there's a guy behind you who is also running? And then you both slow down and speed up for a bit, before eventually falling into an equilibirum and end up jogging in tandem, side-by-side? And you feel obligated to keep running alongside them so as to not offend them by turning around or finding another track, as if to suggest that they smell? Besides, this is your track? But then you really want to because you have a Personal Bubble and you're probably sweating? And you keep hoping that the other guy will run ahead or fall back or GO ELSEWHERE?! And then you get more than just a little bit angry because, damnit, you got here first?! And then you're back to square one of cyclic logic? Yeah, well, go figure.

The only other people running along the beach at that time besides us were married, childless, yuppie couples. You know the sort. You can picture them with their expensive, beach front apartments and snazzy company cars, drinking organic soy chai lattes, paying for yoga lessons that they never attend, buy their groceries at David Jones Food Hall (excuse me, string beans are $9.95/kg there) and having posh dinner parties that they call "small gatherings" at which they serve foods like "tempura oysters with Neil Perry aioli" as though it's a real dish or getting catering and pretending they cooked the food themselves, and despite all their health consciousness and trips to the alternative therapist with questionable credentials but really nice waiting rooms with recessed lighting and Italian lounges, THEY SMOKE AND WEAR HIGH HEELS WHICH IS REALLY BAD FOR YOUR LUNGS AND SPINE. (Yes, I think these thoughts as I'm running.)

The point is, these people made things very awkward for me and I imagine The Other Guy, since he looked to be in his mid thirties and people who passed us would smile, nod and/or say things like "Morning!" whilst making eye contact to both of us AS THOUGH WE WERE A UNIT COUPLE AND THUS NOT ENTITLED TO INDIVIDUAL GREETINGS. I wanted to stop them and yell "No, I don't know him!" But that would have been a little crazy. You'd have thought that the other guy would have turned around and gone elsewhere, for propriety's sake, but I suppose he was as stubborn as I was. I eventually had to stop after about 45 minutes because my body has always been undisciplined and lazy. He turned around and said something like "Nice running with you!" Hah.

See how mature I am?