I wake at 6:45, English muffin, coffee, school. We start relatively on time today and learn about hearing loss and ear infections. Give some stern feedback and constructive criticism at the feedback session for the rotation and head off to the next class at the other hospital.
We learn about plastic surgery: skin grafts, flaps. I head home to eat lunch and head back the original hospital only to find out that I read the schedule wrong and that I have to head back to the other hospital. Luckily, I still arrived on time. We learn about head injuries.
Head back (for the third time today) to the first hospital and get a lecture on neck masses.
I head home to study. I get all set up, books and notes everywhere and I whip out the question book I printed only to find out that my copy is missing half the pages. I go back to the copy store and they offer to give me a complete one tomorrow, no charge. I really wanted to study those practice questions, but that'll have to wait until tomorrow; at least I don't have to dish out the $18 again
I get home, again, and I settle back down (FINALLY) to study everything from hernias, to breast masses, to urinary retention, to transplant surgery. I have no idea what to really really focus on, but considering everyone is in the same boat and reflecting those feelings back in conversation or on MSN, I feel a little relieved. We have objectives, but there's 70 questions and they aren't distributed evenly through the subjects.
The clock strikes 10:30 and I head to bed to get a good night sleep before the dreaded last day of studying.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
The Juggling Act Schedule
Today, same routine. 6:45. Grunt. Coffee, juice, English muffin. This time I opt to shave. I have to put on the appearance that I take good care of myself so that it looks like I can take good care of other people; thank goodness patients can't see my apartment right now.
8:00am The teacher doesn't show up on time. So the junior resident decides to chat it up with us in the conference room whilst we wait for the glorious ENT surgeon. The resident is a pretty down to earth guy and he gives us a bit of advice on choosing a specialty; the first thing he brings up is lifestyle, THEN he mentions how interesting he thought ENT was.
8:40 commence learning about sinusitis. We find out halfway through the session that our class at 10:00 has been postponed until 2:00; this means that I'll be missing optional clinic. We leave the confines of the ENT conference room and are awarded with saline nasal washing kits for the next time we get sinusitis. I somehow end up with the one hypertonic one that is made from sterilized sea-water and comes in a pressurized can instead of the standard bulb that you squeeze yourself to get the saline up your nose. Hopefully it's just as painless as the others. I'll find out next time I get sick! Stay tuned.
I speak with my tutor, get a patient name and head home to drop off my notes. I head over to the other hospital and up to the ICU to see my patient. He's younger than me, which I find out after calling him "mister." I feel silly, but that's the way we're supposed to address patients until they tell us otherwise. Turns out, this kid was in an MVA (motor vehicle accident) involving a scooter and a telephone pole. I have no idea how you drive a scooter into a telephone pole; the things only go 60 kph! So he dislocated his knee, badly. They reduce it (put it back in place), but only to find out that he's damaged his nerve (not good, but not tragic since it could heal and won't ruin his leg) and that's he's damaged his artery. This needed surgery (hence why I'm seeing him) in order to save his leg. He had lost the pulses in his leg because of the accident and was at very high risk of having his leg go gangrenous and needing it to be amputated. You can check for pulses the old fashioned way and if you can't feel them, then we have this fancy little probe that uses ultrasound and applies the Doppler effect theory to figure out if there's even a tincy wincy pulse, but there isn't. Not good for him, but a cool medical case. During the quiet days at the hospital we say (and this isn't anything clever or unique to us) that it's good for the patients but bad for us. Anyhoo, the surgery went well and I could feel that his pulses were back. Vascular surgery saves the day.
I wrap up the interview, which doesn't have too much detail but has just enough that I can write up a report on it and beef up the report with some talk on the risks of losing the limb and I head off to the library. I look up some details on vascular injury following blunt trauma to the knee and I study until my hunger gets the best of me. I eat and head to my next class. We talk about appendicitis and small bowel obstruction and the teacher goes over his time by 30 minutes, but he showed up on time, so I find it in my heart to forgive him.
I get home and pass out for a 30 minute power nap before tackling my report.
I get writers block and start pacing. I'm pounding back Earl Grey tea like it's the last supper. Finally the words start to flow and it looks like I'll actually get to bed before midnight. I succeed and joyfully head to bed at 11:15
8:00am The teacher doesn't show up on time. So the junior resident decides to chat it up with us in the conference room whilst we wait for the glorious ENT surgeon. The resident is a pretty down to earth guy and he gives us a bit of advice on choosing a specialty; the first thing he brings up is lifestyle, THEN he mentions how interesting he thought ENT was.
8:40 commence learning about sinusitis. We find out halfway through the session that our class at 10:00 has been postponed until 2:00; this means that I'll be missing optional clinic. We leave the confines of the ENT conference room and are awarded with saline nasal washing kits for the next time we get sinusitis. I somehow end up with the one hypertonic one that is made from sterilized sea-water and comes in a pressurized can instead of the standard bulb that you squeeze yourself to get the saline up your nose. Hopefully it's just as painless as the others. I'll find out next time I get sick! Stay tuned.
I speak with my tutor, get a patient name and head home to drop off my notes. I head over to the other hospital and up to the ICU to see my patient. He's younger than me, which I find out after calling him "mister." I feel silly, but that's the way we're supposed to address patients until they tell us otherwise. Turns out, this kid was in an MVA (motor vehicle accident) involving a scooter and a telephone pole. I have no idea how you drive a scooter into a telephone pole; the things only go 60 kph! So he dislocated his knee, badly. They reduce it (put it back in place), but only to find out that he's damaged his nerve (not good, but not tragic since it could heal and won't ruin his leg) and that's he's damaged his artery. This needed surgery (hence why I'm seeing him) in order to save his leg. He had lost the pulses in his leg because of the accident and was at very high risk of having his leg go gangrenous and needing it to be amputated. You can check for pulses the old fashioned way and if you can't feel them, then we have this fancy little probe that uses ultrasound and applies the Doppler effect theory to figure out if there's even a tincy wincy pulse, but there isn't. Not good for him, but a cool medical case. During the quiet days at the hospital we say (and this isn't anything clever or unique to us) that it's good for the patients but bad for us. Anyhoo, the surgery went well and I could feel that his pulses were back. Vascular surgery saves the day.
I wrap up the interview, which doesn't have too much detail but has just enough that I can write up a report on it and beef up the report with some talk on the risks of losing the limb and I head off to the library. I look up some details on vascular injury following blunt trauma to the knee and I study until my hunger gets the best of me. I eat and head to my next class. We talk about appendicitis and small bowel obstruction and the teacher goes over his time by 30 minutes, but he showed up on time, so I find it in my heart to forgive him.
I get home and pass out for a 30 minute power nap before tackling my report.
I get writers block and start pacing. I'm pounding back Earl Grey tea like it's the last supper. Finally the words start to flow and it looks like I'll actually get to bed before midnight. I succeed and joyfully head to bed at 11:15
Monday, April 28, 2008
Mondays
Ah Mondays. How I loathe Mondays. I wake at 6:30am. The usual morning routine consisting of English Muffins, juice, and coffee, black. I skip shaving my teenage stubble. At the ripe age of 24, I still can't grow sideburns, a mustache or anything on my cheeks. I scramble to get to class at 8:00.
We wait, for about ten minutes to find out our teacher isn't showing up and that we're going to have to reschedule the class. Our test is this Friday, so that doesn't leave a lot of time to reschedule.
After studying for the next 2 and a half hours at the library I head up to my lecture on enlarged prostates. A gentle reminder of what all men will eventually deal with ensues.
Afterwards, I eat lunch and head over to the hospital I'm currently stationed at only to find out that my assigned patient was discharged this morning before I had a chance to interview him. I mutter under my breath and search for my tutor to be assigned another one. He's nowhere to be found, and he isn't answering his pages. Lovely.
I head back home, soaked by the heaviest rainfall we've seen all spring. My shoes and socks squish squash the whole way home. I change into some dry clothes, make a tea and proceed to write up the first case I interviewed. Not only are these things pointless to write up (the tutors don't even like reading/correcting them) but they waste a lot of time in the process. I love interviewing patients and examining them, but to have to write a report that does not resemble anything in any chart that I have ever read, quite frankly, seems stupid. I compare it to learning how to use a typewriter and all of its machinery when you know you're just going to be using a computer. Pointless.
I speak with the missus for a short while. Skype screws up and we have to switch to the phone.
After finishing the report, in what feels like eons but was really only 4 hours, I plant myself in front of my textbooks in an effort to not fail the upcoming exam. I become distracted quite quickly. I head to the washroom for a twenty minute relief and some recreational reading. I make some more tea and realize that my heartburn has returned but this time I have the antacids at the ready.
I watch the end of the hockey game (why are the playoffs always near exams?) and study some more before heading to bed surrounded by two weeks worth of unfolded laundry. The bed is cold and empty and the sound of rain outside is my companion instead of the gentle breathing of my girlfriend.
At 10pm, I get back out of bed after realizing that even though I'm tired, I'm wide awake (switched to decaf tea at 8pm). I hit the books in the hope that reading about liver disease will put me to sleep. I grind my teeth at the fact that tomorrow I have to interview another patient (which is fine) but have to write up another case report on said patient. I kept this last one short and sweet in the hopes that it will be adequate enough to please my tutor.
It's 10:45 and I feel the pass-out phase of studying sink in. It feels so good, almost naughty.
We wait, for about ten minutes to find out our teacher isn't showing up and that we're going to have to reschedule the class. Our test is this Friday, so that doesn't leave a lot of time to reschedule.
After studying for the next 2 and a half hours at the library I head up to my lecture on enlarged prostates. A gentle reminder of what all men will eventually deal with ensues.
Afterwards, I eat lunch and head over to the hospital I'm currently stationed at only to find out that my assigned patient was discharged this morning before I had a chance to interview him. I mutter under my breath and search for my tutor to be assigned another one. He's nowhere to be found, and he isn't answering his pages. Lovely.
I head back home, soaked by the heaviest rainfall we've seen all spring. My shoes and socks squish squash the whole way home. I change into some dry clothes, make a tea and proceed to write up the first case I interviewed. Not only are these things pointless to write up (the tutors don't even like reading/correcting them) but they waste a lot of time in the process. I love interviewing patients and examining them, but to have to write a report that does not resemble anything in any chart that I have ever read, quite frankly, seems stupid. I compare it to learning how to use a typewriter and all of its machinery when you know you're just going to be using a computer. Pointless.
I speak with the missus for a short while. Skype screws up and we have to switch to the phone.
After finishing the report, in what feels like eons but was really only 4 hours, I plant myself in front of my textbooks in an effort to not fail the upcoming exam. I become distracted quite quickly. I head to the washroom for a twenty minute relief and some recreational reading. I make some more tea and realize that my heartburn has returned but this time I have the antacids at the ready.
I watch the end of the hockey game (why are the playoffs always near exams?) and study some more before heading to bed surrounded by two weeks worth of unfolded laundry. The bed is cold and empty and the sound of rain outside is my companion instead of the gentle breathing of my girlfriend.
At 10pm, I get back out of bed after realizing that even though I'm tired, I'm wide awake (switched to decaf tea at 8pm). I hit the books in the hope that reading about liver disease will put me to sleep. I grind my teeth at the fact that tomorrow I have to interview another patient (which is fine) but have to write up another case report on said patient. I kept this last one short and sweet in the hopes that it will be adequate enough to please my tutor.
It's 10:45 and I feel the pass-out phase of studying sink in. It feels so good, almost naughty.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
A weekend with a beautiful woman and a Sunday of emotions
I spent the weekend with the love of my life. She's beautiful. I still don't understand how someone so wonderful could want to be with someone as jaded and bitter as I can be, but she does, and I count my blessings. We studied together, she happens to be an ambitious student as well.
Today, we woke up and spent the morning together, studying. I find Sundays hard. I always have. From when I was a child, when Sundays occasionally meant that long distance family would be going back to their lives, to more recent years when it meant I was nursing a hangover and wouldn't be seeing my friends for another few weeks because of school, to more recently where I have to say "goodbye until next time" to this beautiful woman who holds my heart. I usually spend most of my Sunday pretending to study while she runs through her notes, highlighting and adding words of wisdom in the side bars of her texts.
While this spectacle goes on, I sit, glancing at her more than my notes, my knee bouncing in anticipation, my feet shuffling with nervousness, my nails being bitten off as I slowly become a nervous wreck. I leave, usually in the afternoon, to arrive back downtown to scramble to do groceries, laundry and finish up any assignments or prepare for the next day's discussions in class.
So this Sunday, after sleeping and listening to my iPod the entire bus ride instead of studying, I again scramble to do my groceries and prepare myself for the week but I still can't concentrate.
I compose myself.
I reach for a tea and head outside onto my balcony. Something about fresh air and realizing that the world is still turning helps to sober me up and hot drinks always made me feel better.
I reapply myself to my studies, my profession, my life, since today, tomorrow, next week, I don't have the time to deal with emotion and distraction and I realize I am still the fearful 17 year-old boy that I was.
Today, we woke up and spent the morning together, studying. I find Sundays hard. I always have. From when I was a child, when Sundays occasionally meant that long distance family would be going back to their lives, to more recent years when it meant I was nursing a hangover and wouldn't be seeing my friends for another few weeks because of school, to more recently where I have to say "goodbye until next time" to this beautiful woman who holds my heart. I usually spend most of my Sunday pretending to study while she runs through her notes, highlighting and adding words of wisdom in the side bars of her texts.
While this spectacle goes on, I sit, glancing at her more than my notes, my knee bouncing in anticipation, my feet shuffling with nervousness, my nails being bitten off as I slowly become a nervous wreck. I leave, usually in the afternoon, to arrive back downtown to scramble to do groceries, laundry and finish up any assignments or prepare for the next day's discussions in class.
So this Sunday, after sleeping and listening to my iPod the entire bus ride instead of studying, I again scramble to do my groceries and prepare myself for the week but I still can't concentrate.
I compose myself.
I reach for a tea and head outside onto my balcony. Something about fresh air and realizing that the world is still turning helps to sober me up and hot drinks always made me feel better.
I reapply myself to my studies, my profession, my life, since today, tomorrow, next week, I don't have the time to deal with emotion and distraction and I realize I am still the fearful 17 year-old boy that I was.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Studying day
I've been suffering recurrent reflux/heartburn and have hit my limit. There's only so much water I'm willing to drink to dilute out the acid in my stomach; it makes me have to piss every 20 minutes, which makes getting into my study groove a little difficult. I head to the local pharmacy and purchase myself some antacids, which I know are just going to make the problem worse but it's better than pissing every 20 minutes.
On the way back, my studying munchies get the best of me and I pick up 20 Timbits at the local Tim Horton's. I have a really bad habit of succumbing to my 5-year-old desires when I'm supposed to be studying.
I get home, munch on the Timbits and study for a few minutes only to have my IBS kick in.
Now I'm completely thrown off my groove and have to start all over again.
The heartburn returns after eating a spicy salami sandwich. I'm beginning to regret buying that spicy salami.
I think about calling the missus but remember that she's busy cramming as well and instead of sucking her into my procrastinating madness, I decide to return to my books.
After giving in to ridiculous IBS symptoms, I decide to finish the night off watching The Empire Strikes Back but the link breaks after about 40 minutes and head off to bed
On the way back, my studying munchies get the best of me and I pick up 20 Timbits at the local Tim Horton's. I have a really bad habit of succumbing to my 5-year-old desires when I'm supposed to be studying.
I get home, munch on the Timbits and study for a few minutes only to have my IBS kick in.
Now I'm completely thrown off my groove and have to start all over again.
The heartburn returns after eating a spicy salami sandwich. I'm beginning to regret buying that spicy salami.
I think about calling the missus but remember that she's busy cramming as well and instead of sucking her into my procrastinating madness, I decide to return to my books.
After giving in to ridiculous IBS symptoms, I decide to finish the night off watching The Empire Strikes Back but the link breaks after about 40 minutes and head off to bed
My return to the blog
sI know that I’ve neglected this blog for quite some time now. Truth is, I realized how boring my life actually is and didn’t see the need to torture my readers (whoever you are) with the mundane details of the life of a medical student. For the readers who are still intrigued as to what the life of a medical student is really like, here it goes:
6:00am: Wake to the harmonious sounds of construction workers, heavy machinery and the beginnings of rush-hour traffic wafting through the open window of my downtown apartment.
7:00am: Re-awaken to previously mentioned construction. Roll over and attempt to re-enter the frustratingly sub-erotic dream state that I was previously in.
7:15am: Turn off alarm on cell phone and deny that this moment in time ever existed.
7:30am: Turn off second alarm on cell phone and grumble about how annoying my obsessive compulsions can be when they require me to set three alarms
7:45am: Dammit! Turn off third alarm and stumble blindly out of bed
8:45am: After feeding and self-grooming, strut to the hospital bobbing to the tunes of 70’s rock band
9:00am: Arrive just on time for surgery lecture only to realize AGAIN that surgeons don’t like teaching… Or showing up on time
11:30am: Finish classes for the day, purchase sushi and study food and return to apartment
12:30pm: Head to local book store to purchase Kevin Smith diary
12:45pm: Bask in springtime sun and waltz to local Starbucks to study surgery out of a book and begin to wonder what life could be like as a farmer.
3:00pm: Purchase bananas at local market. Share smile and chuckle with cashier over woman who asks for a different pack of cigarettes because the warning on the first one has an icky picture. Head back to apartment to study on balcony.
So there you have it. My interesting life. Notice the lack of interactions with other humans. Aside from classmates and the interactions with the clerks of aforementioned coffee shops and markets, the life of this medical student is quite boring.
Cheers
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