SUMMER 4.0
My summer break is finally over. Well, almost. I am so very very very bored that I have started reading the Oxford handbook again, mainly because I've not read general medicine for more than a year now.
A year is long enough to make ECGs look like random squiggles and that's very worrying.
Fourth year has been really challenging. It was fun jumping from one specialty to another but when the total came to 11; revision became overwhelming. That's another year of my life gone and I'm never going to miss it.
Sometimes I can't believe how much of my life has been devoted to school and work. Even my earliest memories are those when I was in kindergarten (I was five and kindergarten was my escape from my parents, brothers and sister). I don't remember the first four years of my life; not that I want to know how I was toilet-trained. But there you go.
I remember the first day of elementary school and the last day of high school. I remember the first day of medical school, and the first day on firm and the last day of every end-of-year exam. The in between, changing classmates, teachers and tutors - I don't remember so much but one thing stays the same. I was always reading.
And I can't remember the last time I had dinner with the whole family. I can't remember the last argument I had with my father and believe me, we've had loads.
On my deathbed, I don't want to say "At least I enjoyed medical school." because that is wrong. And sad.
And I don't even know if medical school is supposed to be enjoyable.
A year is long enough to make ECGs look like random squiggles and that's very worrying.
Fourth year has been really challenging. It was fun jumping from one specialty to another but when the total came to 11; revision became overwhelming. That's another year of my life gone and I'm never going to miss it.
Sometimes I can't believe how much of my life has been devoted to school and work. Even my earliest memories are those when I was in kindergarten (I was five and kindergarten was my escape from my parents, brothers and sister). I don't remember the first four years of my life; not that I want to know how I was toilet-trained. But there you go.
I remember the first day of elementary school and the last day of high school. I remember the first day of medical school, and the first day on firm and the last day of every end-of-year exam. The in between, changing classmates, teachers and tutors - I don't remember so much but one thing stays the same. I was always reading.
And I can't remember the last time I had dinner with the whole family. I can't remember the last argument I had with my father and believe me, we've had loads.
On my deathbed, I don't want to say "At least I enjoyed medical school." because that is wrong. And sad.
And I don't even know if medical school is supposed to be enjoyable.
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