My Thought Process When I Decided to Apply to Medical School in the First Place

Perspective, like I often say, is a brilliant thing.

I want to remind myself of the gift I've been given by being accepted to medical school in the first place. It's such a gamble to get in; having the right MCAT score for that year, picking people who are able to write a competent letter of reference, the most compassionate interview committee. I'm such a lucky person to have been accepted anywhere given my, err, colourful background.

That I've got to this point in my medical career and haven't been kicked out means to me that I made the right choice. People say that it's hard to be kicked out, but it's not that hard. I've seen it happen several times.

I've whined about not getting my number one choice in residency. Poor poor me. I made it to residency. This is a huge gift.

So, now I want to look at the criteria I set for myself when I applied for med school in 2006. That seems so long ago now. Apparently they were good criteria since I got in with one just the one application.

1. I took a good look at why my marks were so terrible (really terrible, worse than your worst) - it was something I could easily fix and did. Essentially, I needed to stop drinking/partying and learn how to study. I made a plan. I also set up my office so that everywhere I looked I saw things that encouraged me to keep studying.

2. I took a leave for a semester to test myself and see how I could do. Given my past credits, I was able to take a 4th year physio course that is known to be a killer. I told myself if I could get an A, I would let myself continue back to school full time. I got a 92.

3. I talked with EVERYONE I could about their jobs - techs, nurses, docs, surgeons, everyone. If I was going to start over, I wanted it to be worth something at the end and wanted to make sure it was what I thought I was going for. Happily, it was.

4. Rather than just getting enough credits and doing the bare minimum, I did a full second degree in something that I loved and that would lead me to a great plan B career. For me, my plan B was a masters in Health Economics. It was a way I could help Canadians' health if I wasn't a physician.

5. I spent the money on the Princeton Review classes. Not cheap to be sure, but so worth it in the end. Part of my poor marks initially was that I didn't know how to take MC exams and the PR helped me with that. I'm sure any other class would as well, but PR fit my schedule.

6. I looked for EVERY resource available at the school for helping me succeed - how to read papers, math lab help, essay editing, study hints, how to learn - it made me a better learner and set me up for success in med school. While you're never too old to go back to school, it doesn't get any easier.

7. My partner and I realistically discussed each of my intermediate goals and what each meant (graduate from undergrad with poor marks, get into a masters program but not MD, would I try to apply a second time etc.) Having a good idea of what to expect from each other along the way was useful and kept me focused and on my game. For me, I would have applied twice but then called it quits.

8. I really want to practice rural medicine. I kept a painting of a rural scene by my desk in undergrad and during med school to keep me focused on what I'm doing.

9. I kept my social connections tight. Just because you have this brilliant plan for the future doesn't mean you shouldn't be living right now. Balance is key. If you can't balance your life in a way that makes you happy, you're doing something wrong. This has been the plan that worked best for me in my medical studies. So many people, especially med students think that they will be able to start living once med school is over...once residency is over....once they are done with locums...once they have kids and their own practice....whatever. Now is when we live, not later.

10. It feels like there should be a 10 but I can't think of one.

What Med School is Like

It seems like whenever I get overwhelmed with what is happening at school, someone asks me how school is going. They mean well. I love that they care, I really do, but I have no way of explaining how I'm feeling without sounding like I'm whining.

The blogger "The Rumours were True" compared med school to eating 5 pancakes every day. He has something there, and it's definitely worth a read.

The idea was made into a short film.

Why do we put ourselves through it?

Dr. Unnecessarily Angry Surgeon comes to in to teach at least once a month

I've been able to get to know the entire class. Really. I know everyone's name and at least 2 bits of interesting information about them. Even the ones who never come to class.


OK, too many videos on one page, I'll start actually writing now.

I love school, it's a great experience. What gets to be stressful though is how absolutely impossible it is to do everything I want to. My undergrad style of note keeping went out the window within a few weeks of starting class - there just isn't time and it just keeps coming. There are "interest group" lectures about absolutely everything. It's a great way to learn what I want to do when I'm done school and I want to hit every one, again, can't.

There are a million committees and community interaction groups, councils and academic events that I want to take part in but again, just no time.

Not to mention the weekly (at least) party.

I'm constantly feeling guilty that I'm not getting to everything and doing as much as I possibly can. It's a bizarre thing. I'm getting used to the fact that I can't do everything but I don't like it. You know I'm pouting.

I may be a little evil

Yesterday was my final day for getting my shots. All together over the past month I have been stuck 6 times to get titres, do a 2-step TB test and be inoculated against mumps, measles, rubella; tetanus, diphtheria; Hep B. The frequent flier club has its privileges though - as I was waiting for my shots yesterday, the nurse recognized me and rather than going to the computer to see who was next, ushered me in. Yay.

While we were going over the form I filled out to get the shot, I heard little running feet.

Then I heard a scared voice repeating "I don't want a needle, I don't want a needle..." The little girl was clearly hiding in the corner just outside my own room and not at all impressed with what was about to happen. They finally got her scooped up and back into her own room. I could tell because the crying became much more persistent, then after the needle, just sad.

I couldn't stop laughing.

It's not that I did feel for the kid, needles really do suck, but this was one of those character building/"good for you, really" kind of things. Like the child that won't eat vegetables, this one knew she needed the needle but didn't care right then. The unfortunate thing for her is that her family is relocating to India in a few months and she needs to be inoculated before she can leave. She came by my room and the nurse offered to let her watch while I got my needle, just so she would have a better idea of what was happening. We talked to her about what was going on and why and she looked very attentive. I told her this was my 5th shot and she asked me if I'd cried. I said no, but I made a funny face during on of the needles. She got this very serious look on her face and told me that she cried. I said that was OK, it's expected, but it's not so bad now right? She was fine and started telling me about her soccer game that night. Hilarious.

I kept giggling.

The funniest part though, was the reaction of the poor nurse who had to stick the beautiful little girl. She was teary when she finished and needed to go to the break room to pull herself together again.

My nurse told me I thought it was funny because I would pass the hard needles like that one onto my nurses. I sure hope I'm not that afraid of kids!

When I asked my doctor if it was wrong that I thought the drama was so funny, she said "no, there are hilarious things that you'll see every day. The problem will be to fight the laughter."

That's definitely going to be an issue.

I figured that now that I was in, there would be no more hoops to jump through, much less, flaming ones.

Getting to the point that I was accepted was one hoop after another to jump through...get a decent GPA, succeed at the MCAT, get some killer volunteer experience, what??? in a clinical setting?? crap..., make the interviewer like you, now it's getting all my info in on time.

Vaccinations, letters, the name I want on my name tag, oh, my.

I have a place to live - check

I have the letter that says I'm physically able to attend - check

I've been vaccinated against everything under the sun - almost

I've sent in the letter that says it's ok that I wave all responsibility for bodily harm to me - gah!

That one scares me. I'm sure it's just to protect themselves in the case that I get a needle stick, but it's such an intense form. I'm too young to die!! Plus I just got into med school and I don't want to!!

Don't mess with my coffee

Among my list of things to finish this summer before starting meds in the fall is a round of vaccinations, blood tests and titres. This week I had 4 titres read to see if I need the vaccination/booster or not, 1 vaccination, one booster and a TB skin test. Ow.

As I was leaving the office, the nurse told me that I couldn't drink coffee for the rest of the day. What?? That wasn't in the fine print she made me read before signing the papers.

It was her little joke because I had taken so many pin pricks. Ha. Ha.

Flying out of Boston last summer, I was hungover, grumpy and desperately low in caffeine. I picked up a Starbucks latte on my way into the airport and was barely through a couple of sips before I made it into the security line ups. The woman behind the X-ray machine told me I'd have to dump the coffee out, I couldn't bring it with me. I tried to keep myself composed, but clearly she had gotten the reaction she was looking for because she giggled and told me I could keep it. Grrrrrr.

I will not, do not, react well to those who insist on coming between me and my coffee.