I dedicate my comeback post to the young lady I saw yesterday with chronic, asymptomatic, pneumoperitoneum – for the players at home, that’s free air in the abdomen. She is hoping we’ve given her enough radiation to turn her into the Incredible Hulk in time for Christmas. A girl can dream…
The best semester of med school ever is drawing to a close. With final exams behind me, I launched into my pre-internship term in surgery and loved it. Then two electives, close to home. It’s been fabulous. Not having the pressure of exams and assessments makes learning more enjoyable.
Today was my last day on the wards, the last day I could tell a patient “I’m not a doctor…” – an exhilarating and mildly terrifying thought. Three days on campus next week and then I’m done.
I truly wish I had kept better record of this year. Maybe I’ll do a retrospective during my luxurious six-week holiday – the one that comes between the last day of school and the first day of work. Or maybe I’ll work on my golf swing. As with Miss Incredible Hulk, only time will tell.
I finally succumbed to the insistence of my knees (and my girl) and have given up on my current attempt to master the art of running. Having missed the first three weeks of seasonal swimming in the local pool, I dedicated 24 hours to rumination on the cost/benefit ratios of the casual visit vs 20 visit vs season pass.
I guess I enjoy maths more than I pretend to.
I spent some time wondering how four months of boot camp would affect my pool re-entry. My togs are too big. That was an encouraging start.
Too much maths meant I got to the pool just as school finished. Not quite so encouraging, but there were still two rugrat-free lanes.
My tiny brain: What if I’ve forgotten how to swim?
I am mildly fascinated by the self-doubt I can generate around a straightforward physical activity.
Naturally I had not forgotten how to swim, but my consistently lousy lap-counting skills suggest that my short-term memory could use an exercise regime all of its own.
I have to correct some misconceptions – my own. It turns out that my oddball study methods don’t suck as badly as I thought. In fact, in the written exam, for once I skated right over the top of the cohort bell curve and landed nicely with both feet firmly down the right-hand slope. Basically the inverse position compared to my performance in the first two years.
So my initial post-exam gut-feel was on the money, I did ok, and from now on the whiny little voice in my head that undermines my confidence can just shut the hell up.
Another thing I was right about though: I did fail the OSCE eye station. In OSCEs I am average, so there’s nice room for improvement.
I’ve found three four-leaf clovers in the last few weeks, and coincidentally have been granted a one-year scholarship that I am particularly happy to hold. Consider me officially happy.