My mom and I always like those “end of the year” tributes the news networks do. It’s usually the last week of the year, and it shows a short 5 minute fast-forward through all the headlines of the year. I figured I’d do something similar, except not on video and not really a highlight of the year, more of a reflection. Now that I think of it, it’s not like those quaint little tributes at all. But I digress.

Before I started, medical school was always this fantastic goal. This great accomplishment. You have to work hard, study hard, face the MCAT, manuever around pre-med gunners, interview well, and basically, just get lucky. And being a doctor was something noble. Something better. And so I walked confidently into medical school, only slightly strained by the huge chip on my shoulder. I have a tendency to romanticize and idealize things; I guess I always thought the reaction I get from others when I say “I’m in medical school” would always be worth it. And it was–until I started medical school.

The whole process and notion of becoming a doctor builds you up. (I say this because I can’t imagine this experience only being unique to my life.) You invest all this time, all this money (I spent several thousand dollars applying and interviewing, and I only applied to 10 schools. Now tell me that those opportunities are available to everyone), all this effort into getting into a medical school. Hell, I never owned a suit (nor needed one) until I started interviewing. Just the idea of a suit–professional, serious, mature–gives a certain air. And oh, the reactions. “Medical school? You must be so smart!” “A doctor? What a great way to help people!” “Medical school? That’s so hard to get in!” Even the faculty and administration encourage it, reminding us of the importance of our future roles in society, the dedication we must have, the great rewards and challenges ahead of us. Who wouldn’t feel good hearing compliments like that all day long?

Until you really dive in and see for yourself, of course. Growing up in a medical family (mom, nurse, dad, doctor), I always just kind of assumed everyone–the whole world!–wanted to be a doctor, but for some reason or another they kind of fell out of competition, or weren’t able to compete for some reason. It’s pompous, arrogant, and egotistical now, but I honestly kind of thought that *my* fascination with medicine was shared by everyone else. Through the friends I’ve made here (especially the non-medical ones), I realize that medicine’s, kind of, just another job. Granted, it’s special to me, and it has many unique opportunities attached to it, but medical school’s not for everyone. I’ve chosen my path that locks me in for another 7+ years; other people have started working right after college, are making a ton of money, and enjoying their weekends. I’ve got my trade-offs, they have theirs.

I looked back on my writings over the past year, and
some of my experiences is still the same . I still find fascination with everyday life: how is it that I can know a person’s name, remember a bright orange coat he wore 5 years ago, and where he lived in my dorm, but I can’t remember his face for 30 minutes, and then instantly, it’s clear? Or having memory at all? I wonder if birds remember what they ate last week. Or where they were three hours ago. I just picture us all starting out at these blobs, who evolved all these senses just to make sense of everything. Not even to survive. Just to understand.

I think I’ve learned as much about non-medical subjects as I have about medicine this year (and I’ve definitely remembered more of the non-medical. Remembered, or “not blocked out”). About communication, listening, talking, friendship, institutions, economics, philosophy, policy, politics. And I’ll be a better doctor for it all. I might have to look to a book to recall the name of an obscure muscle, but I’ll be a better advocate for my patient. I’ll make better decisions. I’ll know more about my patient’s lives, more about my colleagues’ lives, and more about what makes each of them tick. What other factors are influencing their lives besides the medications they’re taking, or the disease that they have.

I’ve started to become a human categorization and pattern-recognition machine. I seriously feel like a less knowledgeable version of Dxplain . I hear some symptoms, and they start churning away. Cold? Fever? Joint pain? Query brain database… rheumatic fever ? No sore throat? No other problems? Maybe not.

I can definitely feel the jaded, bitter side of me rearing its ugly head; the goal is not to deny it, but to accept it, realize it’s part of me, and recognize that it’s just a visceral, simple emotion, and probably doesn’t take things into consideration. Why does this patient not take his medication? He’s frustrating me! It’s not that he’s stupid, or lazy, or a bad person. There’s other reasons, and I have to be present and aware to illicit them, figure them out, and do a better job. I used to automatically assume there are other factors that I don’t know about for why someone is behaving the way they are. But now, it seems like I have to remind myself of it.

I think my time at Ravenswood has been the best for me. It’s always been easy for me to slip into my comfort zone and float happily on. Ravenswood reminds me that my studies don’t exist in a vacuum. While I study, or do this or that, there’s other people struggling just to get by, just to eat, just to keep their job and their kids and their lives from falling apart. It reminds me of how fortunate I am to have the opportunities I’ve had. Of how lucky I’ve been. This is not to discount my personal effort or shirk in dividual responsibility, merely to say that many things were set in my favor before I even began the game. I don’t know that I’d be here at school if the factors weren’t already setup as such.

Year two (it gets even rougher) begins in three weeks, and I’m in the process of trying to wrap up all the loose ends of the many projects I’ve been working on. We start with neoplasms and their associated medications, then moving on to microbio. Add to that the fact that I’m TAing Anatomy fall and winter quarters, and I think I’ll have a pretty full plate. I’m already starting to worry about boards.

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