So I’ve noticed on my blog and most of the other medblrs I follow that there have been a metric crapton (units= kg/crapⁿ, n=number of craps) of asks from concerned pre-meds about their grades. It’s the end of the year. You’re getting your grades. Activate freakout mode.
|Bee:||[in regards to doing a prostrate exam] It wasn't that bad actually. I mean I've worked with cadavers. This is just...fresh.|
Hear ye hear ye!
Just saw this glorious poem that one of my classmates posted on our facebook group the night before the neuro final.
I wish I could double like things on facebook sometimes.
Also, here is a haiku I wrote on my neuro practical exam during rest stops (I have to nervously sketch or write notes and poems or else I change all my answers):
Taking this exam
Hoping an aneurysm
Will finish me off
Here’s the news I’ve been aching to tell you all about.
I teamed up with ObizMedia to create this infographic about physician salaries and costs of education (financial and time related). It’s been under wraps for a few months now and is finally ready for release!
Head over to my blog, MD Salaries for more information.
update: reposting this as a photo post for easier viewing for my tumblr readers.
Great infographic is great. In summary: don’t go into medicine if you wanna get rich.
Seriously. If you don’t believe doctors and med students who tell you that they do it for the love, not the money, listen to the numbers. We do this for us and for others, not the dollar. And I’m damn proud to say that!
“Is that her femoral artery?”
I met my lover late one night,
Stethoscope on my chest, BP cuff on my right,
And as he held my hand, on his resident’s command,
He summoned up all his might -
“I’m a doctor-in-training”, he said,
Resting his body against my bed
“And is it too soon to make you swoon?
Because I know we’ve just met -
But you make my heart thump so hard
That cardiac arrest is on the cards,
Fast my blood flows for my soul knows
That true love has caught me off-guard.”
What was there to say but yes?
To a lack of experience he had confessed,
Yet I was fine with the nerdy pick up lines
Because for me adoration he had professed -
But he’s rare with actual compliments
Instead choosing to thank my ‘rents
For their chromosomes, their centrosomes
…I think good will was meant?
And even when he finds the right words
It sounds completely absurd
To hear “My dear, your telomeres
They have never faltered!”
All my girlfriends think I’m single
Because I never bring him out to mingle -
He works long hours, rarely showers,
And in small talk, the only lingual
Skills he has pertain to nerves of the tongue,
And if there’s pathology he has the lungs
To speak and speak for a more than a week,
As if other meddies he were among!
Surgery sets his heart on fire
More than my wanton desire,
Causing a fuss with his bloodlust
Whenever I want my body admired,
So when he’s making love to me,
I know he’s thinking of anatomy
Not what goes where, or how he fares,
But is that her femoral artery?
“Found it!” he cries instead of my name,
As if our activity is not a game
Of take-a-peek but hide-and-seek
Where physiology is the aim!
Still I know he’ll never cheat
Because he never has the time to meet
Another girl to take for a whirl,
And besides, I know I have them beat
With my ample mitochondria, cranial hypertrophy,
A million neurotransmitters and long phalanges -
Subcutaneous tissue, it’s never an issue;
So I’ll let him study our mutual biochemistry
Because he gives me atrial fibrillation,
Ventricular contractions and palpitations,
Every single date my muscles fasciculate,
Forever he’ll be my doctor, and I, his patient.
[An old poem I had lying around. It never fails to amuse me.]
- You will look like a pretentious twit. But before you cry out, consider the model of socialisation familiar to first years and anyone cramming for final exams. Acting like a doctor is a crucial step to becoming a doctor, and House and Dr Cox are doctors who are also pretentious. Therefore, in order to become a doctor, you must wear your stethoscope out in public.
- Doctors get upgraded to business class when flying. How else will the flight attendants be aware of your pending-doctor status if you don’t wear your steth?
- There’s scope for, ahem, roleplaying.
- Think of the pick-up lines. “Excuse me miss, but you just made my heart skip a beat. Care to hear?” “I’m offering free health checks to all attractive males… and you most certainly qualify.”
- If you plan on going into surgery or psychiatry, this may be the only opportunity you get to wear your stethoscope. How many surgeons have you seen wear a stethoscope on ward rounds?
- “Stand back, I’m a doctor” sounds much more impressive if you look like one. And no one will question your doctor qualifications if you’re wearing a stethoscope.
- It’s a great party trick. In fact, the last two parties I’ve been to, I’ve whipped out my pretty little stethoscope and conducted full cardiovascular examinations on my friends. Not only do they get free healthcare, but it makes you seem super intelligent because you can tell them that their hearts are normal.
- Eavesdropping. Forget holding glasses up to walls or casting listening charms—if your friends are having a super secret conversation next door, you can simply hold your stethoscope to the wall and listen to all the dirty gossip.
- It’s great revision for clinical exams. If you’re wearing your stethoscope on a long train trip back from the country, imagine how many times you can listen to your heart and lungs. You’ll be a pro at identifying normal breath sounds by the end of it—and if you’re game, you can always practice on the other passengers. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.
- Hitting someone with a stethoscope hurts. Therefore, wearing your stethoscope on those long walks between hospitals, residential colleges, and sophisticated drinking establishments means you always have a weapon on hand should you find yourself in less-than-pleasant company.
Please note, this is an entirely facetious list. Don’t wear your stethoscope outside the hospital, please.
Today in gross lab we cut through the ribs and sternum to access the thoracic cavity and to get the lungs; the next couple of labs we will be dealing with the heart and associated structures.
That seems so textbook when I write it. Contained in that sentence are many strange feelings, the whole lab was almost a blur.
We ‘unwrapped’ what had been dissected in the previous lab: the skin, the huge gingko-leaf-like pectoralis major muscle and the little triangle-shaped pectoralis minor muscle, the weirdly hand-like digitations of the thin and silvery serratus anterior; muscles are different from organs. We waited with mounting anticipation for our table’s turn with the bone saw (supervised, of course).
And then it got there, yellow snaking extension cord, she handed it to me, our eyes met and she knew what I felt. The bone saw looked kind of like a kitchen utensil. Heavy in my hands, I was scared to cut the lung while cutting through the ribs- weirdly gratifying when they gave and I knew I had cut all the way through. Bone chips and slivers on grey abdominal skin. I passed it to the person on my right. “Here, you should do this, you’re interested in surgery, right?” He would make a great surgeon.
Then we pulled off the square/butterfly shape of sternum and ribs, I held it steady as my table-mates cleared away fascia to clearly see the transversus thoracis muscles. It felt like a wounded bird in my hands for some reason, delicate.
We saw the lungs, spongy purple with black tiger stripes from (what I suppose) to be years of smoking. The differences between the left and right lung, the fat covering the heart between them. I waited nervously, what if they moved.
The lungs were removed with a scalpel. Handed to me, a strange birth. They were heavy in my hands, but lighter than I expected. Breath of life once filled them, once propelled oxygen into tissues and cells, once removed carbon dioxide. Give and take with the trees- they need our respiratory waste, we need their respiratory waste.
How long could he hold his breath? What about holding the note of a song, driving in the summer with the windows down and his arm around his beloved?
Look at other lungs. One had cancer, many were tiny, some were quite pink, others were blacker than ours. All of them lifebreath-givers. In my hands.
Put the lungs back in the chest, they settle down into the base of the thoracic cage now that they are free of their connections to the heart and pleura. Good night, sweet first years, you’re welcome. Put the rib and sternum section back, put the muscles and skin back. Wrapping up a present. Spritz with moisture spray, cheesecloth, plastic. Good night, sweet first years, you’re welcome. Close up the table. Wipe it down, no rude fingerprint traces here. Spotless shining stainless steel knowledge casket.
I floated home, my head other places. Lungs behind the wheel of every car around me. Lungs inside of me. As I laid down for a quick nap I inhaled deeply. Gleeful air rushing down into the tiniest alveoli. Did my lungs fill up the recesses around them? Exhale.
As I fell asleep I could feel my lungs. In my chest. Maybe someday far in the future someone will hold them in their hands- I can’t hold my breath for very long.
“Medical school is not a place for smart people but for those who are insane enough to dream of it, pray for it, work hard for it, and live for it. It is for those who are crazy enough to want the sense of purpose that fuels their veins. And if it is insanity, then let it be, for even if it means more sleepless nights, more examinations to pass, more years in the university and more sacrifices to endure, nothing will change. I will still keep choosing this path over and over again even for a hundred more days and a thousand more years. And nothing in this world can stop me from taking an adventure as worth taking as this, even for a million more lifetimes.”
Again and again..
I am made for Medicine and Medicine is made for ME..
So long as your cause is noble and your mind is strong."
— Tony Robbins
…I believe that we need to promote wellbeing in the medical culture. I believe that, as medical students, as healthcare students in general, we need a place where it’s okay to talk about patient experiences and the emotions they inspired. We need to make it okay to cry after a long day of observing life and death within hospitals. Self-care needs to be something that is taught alongside clinical placements, not as a tokenistic gesture in the pre-clinical years.
This paragraph from MLAAMS’ essay is so crucial to the survival of healthcare providers as individuals — and as a profession, too!
- For every cool medical show or funny story on a medical blog, there are hundreds of boring stories.
- Tv shows like House and even the ones on the Discovery channel are made for entertainment.
- They all have a morsel of truth (a very small morsel in the case of House), but it’s portrayed in such a way as to make it sensational so that more people will watch it.
- The boring parts like paperwork, charting, waiting for test results, dealing with insurance companies, and the tons of routine patient visits are left out because they don’t draw tv viewers (or blog followers…).
Hey, maybe we should start a t.v. show with the boring medical stuff and just see what viewer ratings we get…you know, for fun…
Cranquis Big Apple Treasure Hunt: Track 4
Cranquis Big Apple Treasure Hunt: Track 3
Cranquis Big Apple Treasure Hunt: Track 2
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Your girl is back from Step 1!!!
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wayfaringmd replied to your post: Your girl is back from Step 1!!!
Woo! Isn’t it a relief to be done?! I’m sure you did great!