I am writing to share my concern regarding a series of unusual and troubling cases affecting medical professionals across the country. It manifests as a selective form of hemineglect in otherwise neurologically intact individuals.
When I applied for medical school, I knew I was signing up for hard work. I knew I would have to spend countless hours studying, that my sleep cycle might never be the same. But I had not expected this.
One of my favorite things in life is food — the act of cooking and baking, sharing food with friends and, of course, eating it. I don’t know about you, but I can personally attest to having very positive thoughts after filling my stomach with delectable sweets.
As medical students, we spend endless hours stuck in a library, with tons of books and piles of notes that we try to get into our heads … It is only logical that it is challenging to maintain a healthy diet and exercise routine while aiming for academic excellence.
While it is clear that the issue of depression and anxiety extends well beyond the medical school admissions process, it is important to ask whether it is the beginning of a long and slippery slope to a life of anxiety and depression.
Most of my articles bear a similar theme: find activity, go on activity, discuss what I learned from the activity and my recommendations for whether or not my readers should pursue said activity. This one is … different.
Tears rushed down my face / like the initial gush of water / spurting from a faucet
It’s ironic that the medical field is arguably the most humane profession, yet we put our residents and physicians-in-training through such pain and suffering.
In October 2015, someone I love very much lost someone truly special to them. I had just started medical school and this news really jerked things into perspective. Life is not a passive force; it is something we are meant to live.
I don’t want to admit that medical school is tough for me. I want to be a natural at this. I want to devour my schoolwork and never satisfy my thirst for more.
I had one last beautiful, golden weekend before starting my OB/GYN rotation. I knew that I had to fit in one more memorable activity before my life became overrun with uteruses (uteri?) and babies.
I was once asked if medical school is an unhappy place. It is a good question, the kind that it takes someone outside of medicine to ask.