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, 1st 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 3rd year graduate entry medical
student going strong on my 5th 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.
