IV.I.VII – The Brightest Month
IV.I.VII
THE BRIGHTEST MONTH
A few months before enrolling into my penultimate year, Momma Bear and I had applied for a medical elective in the UK as part of a programme offered by the University of Cambridge.
Somehow, some way, we both got accepted into the same programme. Of course, this was no valorous feat. Applications are on a first come first served basis, and so, our acceptance didn’t really say much about us as students so much as overeager applicants. Whilst she’d be attached to the breast surgery department, I’d be studying under the department of neurology at one of the best hospitals in the world; Addenbrooke’s Hospital.
Like I’ve already mentioned repeatedly, studying medicine is by no means a breeze. It’s true that we exaggerate how difficult it is. After all, every course has its horrors and terrors, its trials and tribulations. And so, quite understandably, my passion for medicine would wax and wane over time. Four years of cyclical highs and lows. I’d start off the year all bright, shiny and preppy – ready to learn to my heart’s content. Then, as the days go dark and the temperature drops, I start to realise my mentors (or most of them) don’t give a crap about me, my time or my education, and so I’d trudge on dejectedly. Come exam time I’d have to cram every single piece of vital and trivial knowledge alike and then blurt everything out on a booklet the size of Jupiter. With the advent of the second semester, the weather would grow warmer and the grass greener, and so, eager Marius would appear once again and disappear just as fast as he’d quickly realise that his mentors still don’t care, and, at this point, neither does he.
With finals around the corner, I’d try my best to not deep fry my notes and buy a one-way ticket to Maui, and, somehow, exam season would be over too. Summer would then bring along new educative opportunities. There was a lab research in my first year, Manchester and my first surgical rotation in my second, Nepal and Hungary in my third, and now I had Cambridge to look forward to. All these experiences would give me the boost I needed to survive yet another cycle. But Cambridge? Cambridge kinda broke that cycle.
Just to put everything into context, my average day as a medical student throughout the year would go something like this.
I’d wake up at an inhumane hour and then suffer through an hour’s worth of traffic and trying to find a parking spot. On most days, all I’d do is stare and loiter in corridors like some piece of furniture before being cordially told to go home and stop being a nuisance and a hindrance to our ‘mentors’ who’d spend their days actively ignoring us. Another hour of rush hour traffic and I’m back home, where I’m expected to continue my out-of-hours studying. Hours upon hours of my time, wasted, just like that. And what would I have to show for it? I’d say good grades, only I got to where I am simply because I studied everything on my own using books and Google.
Mind you, I don’t want to sound unfair. We did have a few doctors who took an active interest in our education, but you could count them on your fingers (particularly if one of your hands has been amputated). Needless to say, this is the situation in most teaching hospitals all around the world. It is common knowledge for medical students that we learn what the actual job entails only after we start working. And so, we go on – like burnt out and lifeless zombies.
The intention of this (very cathartic) rant is to elicit the contrast between my overall experience as a medical student in my everyday life and my experience as a medical student at Addenbrooke’s. Honestly, I feel emotional thinking about my time over there, and so, without further ado, here we go.
Back in Cambridge, I’d wake up at a decent hour and walk a few minutes to the department of neurology. We’d have a meeting where my input as a measly med student was not only welcome but actually appreciated. Seriously! It felt as if we were peers – kinda how I had felt two previous summers during my first ever surgical rotation. Yep, that’s right! The last time I had felt validated and acknowledged in that setting had been two years previously. After the meeting we’d proceed to a ward round where not only would my mentors (and now I actually mean it in the real sense ) go out of their way to teach me, but they’d have patients allow me to examine them and sometimes even perform minor procedures on them.
Never will I forget the first lumbar puncture I ever did. That sense of accomplishment and pride you get when you stick a giant ass needle into someone’s spine to obtain that beautifully clear cerebrospinal fluid… Our day would be filled with tons of tasks, some menial; like chasing blood results or filling in paperwork, and some super cool; like clerking patients with rare diseases or eliciting rare clinical signs. We’d have academic meetings and grand rounds where these big-headed geniuses would present cases or researches that would have me in awe all day long and inspire me even more.
And those things – the very same things that were what was promised to us by the programme, were only half of it. What made the experience truly perfect was everything else. Like spending hours and hours at the skills lab practicing all kinds of procedures and techniques after my day at the hospital would be over. Seriously – you should have seen my suturing by the end of the elective! I mean sure, I’m no Meredith Grey but hey, my running whipstitch could totally beat my grandma’s sewing.
Then there was the hanging out with junior doctors in the doctor’s room; a shoebox of a room with human-sized piles of dirty scrubs in the corners, a beaten-down hospital bed on the side and an old computer on the other, right next to this magnificent piece of engineering referred to as a coffee machine that is held together by all kinds of medical equipment. I have the best kind of memories in that room… From being mercilessly grilled about medical cases to having to interpret radiological findings, from gossiping about other hospital employees to discussing our own personal drama, from practicing suturing techniques to just having a breather after a long day.
I think the best one was when they had this one case they couldn’t crack, and I coincidentally stumbled upon an identical image of a head MRI on Google that could have potentially explained the patient’s condition. I still remember their faces when they realised the diagnosis fit the patient’s clinical features. After days and days of endless discussions and investigations, here comes this rosy cheeked, pansy-ass idiot with the answer. Marius Brown; boy-wonder, Addenbrooke’s very own protégé! With a speed that would make Usain himself feel inept, we sprinted up to the consultant’s office, ready to strike a victorious pose as we’d inform her that the case had been closed. As faith would have it, it wasn’t. It only took her a minute to turn our diagnosis down on the basis that it was ‘extremely unlikely’.
Admittedly I still feel a bit iffy about it, but hey, at least I got my five minutes of glory! But you see? The very fact that I could voice my opinion, and have it count as much as theirs was something I had never experienced before as a medical student. There I wasn’t just a burden, I helped out and even offered valid input; or so I’d like to think.
And this is why I said this experience broke the cycle. Back in Cambridge, I realised that I’m not just a medical student.
Medical students are assets that can and should be used. I could complain about the system all I want but that won’t change anything. What I could do, however, is to be more pro-active. I learned that if I’d feel as if my time was being wasted or not being put to proper use, I could do something about it. I could offer my services and demand to be of use elsewhere. I could shadow doctors whom I’d know would be willing to teach me, even if it’d be out of hours. And most of all, I’d have to be one of those doctors who’d go out of their way to teach their fellow medical students once I’d be in that position myself.
I know it’s difficult to do your job whilst teaching, but by then I had some excellent role models to look up to, role models who showed me that it’s not only possible to do so, but that it’s also infinitely more gratifying.