Ode to a medical student: "Oh, semi-zombie".

Most people who follow my (admittedly sparse,) blog will know a few things about me by now.  So far I think I’ve divulged that my other half is a musician and – more personally – that I suffered the loss of my mother in 2013. In other news, I am also a graduate entry medical student. For those who care enough to question what that is, it basically means I’ve already done a degree. In 2014 I emerged victorious from Cardiff Metropolitan University as a shiny, elated, 1^st class honours BSC Biomedical Science graduate.  Understandably, I was thrilled, however, for me this degree was only ever a springboard into what I really wanted to do: medicine.  Fast forward to 2016.

I am currently a 3^rd year graduate entry medical student going strong on my 5^th year of higher education. I can confirm, in no uncertain terms, that I am no longer shiny or elated. In fact, most days I feel like boiled shit. There are multiple blogs out there that will tell you what to expect from life as a medical student, graduate or otherwise. A lot of these speak of the elation you feel when you single-handedly deliver a newborn baby (read as: you stand awkwardly in the corner of the room and look at another woman’s vagina and say a silent prayer for all her holes).  I thought I would make a more honest "10 point post" blog about the things they 100% do not tell you about being a medical student, particularly a graduate.

1. You will be absolutely exhausted

I think this has to be point number 1 for the simple fact it pervades every aspect of my life.  Any lie in must be taken, at expense of all other activity. Think Gollum level attachment to the ring to envisage the love I have for my pillow on a Saturday morning. Think Sophie’s Choice-esque breakdown whenever it gets too much and I want to quit my life and become a stripper. Yup. That pretty.

2. You will get fat

It is the unspoken inevitability. As someone who’s put on roughly a stone and a half since deciding to service the general health needs of the population in the future, I can confirm this to be true. This will mostly arise from point number 1. Having the general mental energy to attempt to conjure up some sort of nutritious meal is a thing of the past. Embrace the super noodles. Also, look forward to playing my favourite game around exam periods. Similar to "Snog, marry, avoid", but instead titled "Sleep, wash or eat?". 

3. Some days you will be sick of the sound of your own voice.

Anybody who knows me will probably argue that this can’t possibly be true, and Lord knows I do love a good gas. But seriously.  There have been times arriving home from placement that I have just sat in silence for a good 3 hours because the thought of striking up and maintaining a conversation with someone after approximately 8 hours of “So tell me about that then…” is literally soul destroying. Please, leave me sedentary, don’t touch me and feed me occasionally. Ta.

4. You will want to cry. A lot.

At good things, at bad things. At ugly things that happen to lovely people. Sometimes you will actually cry. Hysterically. Mostly in toilet cubicles on your own.

5. Your holidays are non-existent and probably extortionate.

By the end of July, as you are limping over the finish line of summer exams, a glimmer of hope will appear in the form of a summer holiday.  That hope will quickly be destroyed when you come to understand that you’ll have to sell a kidney into the black market to afford any sort of sun. At this point you’ll probably be severely vitamin D compromised (due to hours of revision) and to resist Rickett’s you’ll beg any family member who will listen to take you for free.

Oh P.S. Half terms and reading weeks? Not a thing.

P.P.S. In tremendous and unprecedented displays of cruelty, the UK’s 2 days of summer will occur smack bang in the middle of your revision session.

6. There is no room for illness. Or dental appointments.

I think this pretty much applies to any sort of full time job but please recognise the awkward struggle of being absolutely surrounded by clinical brains and being too petrified to ask for a medical opinion.

7. You will diagnose yourself with everything.

The extensive list: Scabies, IBD, Ankylosing spondylitis. More to follow.

8. You’ll be poor.

Everyone ever will tell you to not get a job as a medical student.  Personally, there is absolutely no way on this Earth I could ever afford to live on the pittance student finance and NHS bursary dole out. As a graduate student, people are not very keen AT ALL to give you any sort of funding. Bar work fits in quite nicely with your schedule (Grossly unavailable at any given time apart from unsociable hours). This leads me back nicely to point 1.

9. You’ll get sent random pictures of peoples’ bits.

“Is this infected?”

“Do you think I need antibiotics?”

“Any idea what this is?”

There are bits of people I should never have seen. Also, to all the people who I haven’t spoken to in roughly 6 years who feel it is appropriate to contact me to discuss their bowel movements. PLEASE Y.

10.  You will hoop jump better than a starving dolphin at sea world.

Tick this, do that, get this signed off, yadda yadda yadda. You get the point. If you are incapable of doing things as a means to an end, medicine is not for you. Yes, apparently, they do want to see you can wash your hands. Every year.

By no means am I ungrateful for where I have ended up, but today definitely required a good moan. Maybe in the future, when I’ve actually passed (fingers crossed,) Friday’s exam I’ll write another 10 point post about the plus points of medical school. For now they’re too buried under my 7 empty tea cups and the Oxford Handbook of Clinical Medicine.