Medicine is a sacrifice. I knew this upon admittance into medical school. I did not know the sacrifice would be an erosion of my humanity.
Medical school hit me, and I mean it hit me hard. I would describe it as a boulder rolling down a hill straight towards me, multiplied by ten, and that is how scared and unprepared I was for my first few weeks of medical school.
We, as future health care providers, must recognize that patients affected by mental illnesses will need our support and advocacy. We must also understand that some patients might not have the time or financial stability to seek treatment or therapy. Regardless, we should explore other long-term treatment options and strive to make mental health care easily accessible nationally.
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.
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.
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.
Congratulations, you’ve started medical school! The dream you have had since you were nine years old is finally coming to fruition. You’re going to be a doctor! Just … not in 2012, when you think you’re going to graduate. In 2018. I’ll get to that later.
My palms were sweaty as I slid on my blue gloves and boot covers, feeling excited and anxious at the same time. “I’ve delivered hundreds of babies,” Dr. Johnson said. “I think I can give you this one.”
The entirety of the third year of medical school is an act. If you want to be a good medical student, you are what your team wants you to be. Amenable, pliant, easygoing — even when inside you are a bitter angry little thing who’s tired of being pushed around.