Dude. Make it stop.
Just when I thought I was out of the woods, homework-wise, they drop the frickin' A-bomb of busywork on me.
I can sum up my misery in four words: Stupid, online, required cases.
Ugh. Apparently, many med schools around the country use them. You log on to a web site and are led through a web of lameness like a small blind child, and are occasionally forced to answer a multiple choice answer or (shudder) type a response in a box. The web site says that the cases should take about 40 min to complete; I've been taking 20-30min each, which is still 20-30min each of my life I will never get back. We are required to complete at least 5.
FIVE.
But that's not the worst of it. They set it up so that you are required to complete at least 5, but that just gets you a pass. To get a high pass or honors you have to complete more LOTS, LOTS more. And although it only accounts for 5% of your total grade (WHY do they insist on acting like your 3rd year grades are objective by assigning things percentages and numbers? It is a total lie. I may talk about this in a future post...) you just know that if you decide to slack and only do the minimum that you would miss a good grade by 2.5% and the you'd just die.
Anyway, the cases go something like this. You open the page and it has a picture of a scary person who as far as you know just broke out of prison. They say,
"Hello. My name is Dr. Doverschlogenmarchowitz. Today we'll be seeing little Timmy, a 4 year old who insists on traveling everywhere by hopping on one leg and has a history of explosive diarrhea. Why don't you go in and introduce yourself?"
Then you click on the next page button and it has a picture of Timmy, and it asks you some kind of question mildly related to the situation, like:
"Explosive diarrhea can stem from many causes, such as watching reality television. Which ONE of the following is the least medically accurate television program?
A. Grey's Anatomy
B. ER
C. House
D. Diagnosis: Sexy!: The Search for the Hottest Doc in America"
Then you are forced to click on questions for the patient and read their answers and it goes on and on and oh my God it is horrible.
Anyway, I could mock them all night, but really I'd like to finish another one of these stinkbombs so I can go to sleep. By the way, in the interest of full disclosure, I would like to state that I know that at least one of my classmates, an otherwise totally sane human, has stated that he believes these cases are helpful. For this person I would like to suggest haldol. For Timmy, I suggest laying off America's Most Smartest Model.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Student, evaluate thyself
First of all, WHEW.
I'm done with inpatient pediatrics. One more month left in this rotation, which is a week of newborn nursery and three weeks of outpatient clinics. But the tough stuff is the inpatient, with longer hours, call and weekends.
So, how was it? Well, I am totally beat, but I really like peds for a bunch of reasons I won't go into here. In fact my liking of it is such a majority that it is easier to say what I don't like about it, which is:
1. Crazy adolescent patients
2. Crazy parents
3. 1 and 2 (they often go together)
4. Extremely depressing patients, such as victims of child abuse (shaken baby syndrome being possibly the most depressing) and those with profound CP and mental retardation
Still, even with the above, I could see myself really enjoying pediatrics. Because the vast majority of time, even in bad situations 1-4, you still leave feeling like you managed to help, even in the smallest way.
But that is not what I would like to talk about today. Today I would like to discuss (with my keyboard and my three readers) the idea of self-evaluation.
Most rotations do this in some respect, but peds does it more formally than others I've had so far. At the half-way point they give you a long questionnaire which you fill out in what is supposed to be an intensely self-searching and honest manner, and then you go over it with one of the attendings.
Now, as an oftentimes exorbitantly introspective (and, okay, insecure) person, I found this process both redundant and depressing. Basically, it allowed me to write down all the shortcomings I have been acutely aware of since day one on the wards, while at the same time introducing new and disturbing facets of inadequacy which I may now ruminate over at my leisure. When I finished the forms, and was feeling even more disappointing than usual, I started questioning the utility of this form of review. The way I see it, there are Three Main Classes of Student, and self-evaluation fails each of them, albeit for different reasons:
-The Egotistical Jackass: This is the person who sees most everything as beneath them and their superior level of function. The self-evaluation fails here because the egotistical jackass will never consciously acknowledge that they have room for improvement; if they do it tends to be something inane like "I will try not to make the other students as jealous of my awesomeness." (You think I am lying, but there are definitely students like this out there. Sometimes they actually are pretty good, and sometimes not. Sometimes their ego is kind of endearing, and sometimes it makes you want to tie their vulnerable appendages to your car bumper and drive off.)
-The Oblivious and Often Inappropriate Nutbar: Again, it is surprising how many there are. Most of these people, in my opinion, simply lack introspective prowesses. They say and do ridiculous things and don't seem to understand why they are wildly inappropriate. Example: one of my fellow students, who is so strange and inappropriate that it would not surprise me in the least to learn that he is actually a humanoid robot shell operated by alien beings, actually started pimping us, our interns and our senior resident in the middle of rounds. By name. As in, "(Senior Resident's name), why don't you tell us some metabolic derangements you might see with this disease." It would have been even funnier if it wasn't so sad. Asking them to figure out how they can improve is like asking an cow to derive the equations of motion.
-The Paranoid, Insecure Self-Torturer: I think I fall into this category, and I think the result of self-evaluation for most of us is as I described above. The last thing we need is more stuff to beat ourselves up about.
I think the main goal of this self-evaluation stuff is to come up with an "action plan"; that is, a way to address the areas you think need to be improved. Again, in light of the Three Major Types of Student, I think this step is not useful. The egotistical jackass has not come up with anything reasonable to improve, so it's kind of a moot point there. The Oblivious and Often Inappropriate Nutbar... well, it's best not to delve deeper into their psyche. And the Paranoid, Insecure Self-Torturer formulates about 20 action plans for their perceived areas of weakness every single day on their way home, so to ask them to do it formally is to risk pushing them into Generalized Insecurity Paralysis (GIP) which I think we can all agree is counter-productive.
All that being said, my session was somewhat helpful for me. For instance, my attending moved several areas of self-perceived weakness into the "strengths" category, which was honestly a load off of my mind. Example: my knowledge base. I always feel behind my peers, so having an attending tell me that wasn't true was frankly a load off of my mind. She also did point out that some things I perceived as deficits in my presentations were actually not an issue, but that my lack of confidence was; and as I had not realized my insecurity was so apparent, that was a helpful observation.
So, med school bigwigs, on behalf of my other equally though differently dysfunctional classmates, just tell us what we are good at, and what we suck at, so we can go back to being in denial, or insane, or self-deprecating. Thank you, and I hope I've given you a plan for improvement.
I'm done with inpatient pediatrics. One more month left in this rotation, which is a week of newborn nursery and three weeks of outpatient clinics. But the tough stuff is the inpatient, with longer hours, call and weekends.
So, how was it? Well, I am totally beat, but I really like peds for a bunch of reasons I won't go into here. In fact my liking of it is such a majority that it is easier to say what I don't like about it, which is:
1. Crazy adolescent patients
2. Crazy parents
3. 1 and 2 (they often go together)
4. Extremely depressing patients, such as victims of child abuse (shaken baby syndrome being possibly the most depressing) and those with profound CP and mental retardation
Still, even with the above, I could see myself really enjoying pediatrics. Because the vast majority of time, even in bad situations 1-4, you still leave feeling like you managed to help, even in the smallest way.
But that is not what I would like to talk about today. Today I would like to discuss (with my keyboard and my three readers) the idea of self-evaluation.
Most rotations do this in some respect, but peds does it more formally than others I've had so far. At the half-way point they give you a long questionnaire which you fill out in what is supposed to be an intensely self-searching and honest manner, and then you go over it with one of the attendings.
Now, as an oftentimes exorbitantly introspective (and, okay, insecure) person, I found this process both redundant and depressing. Basically, it allowed me to write down all the shortcomings I have been acutely aware of since day one on the wards, while at the same time introducing new and disturbing facets of inadequacy which I may now ruminate over at my leisure. When I finished the forms, and was feeling even more disappointing than usual, I started questioning the utility of this form of review. The way I see it, there are Three Main Classes of Student, and self-evaluation fails each of them, albeit for different reasons:
-The Egotistical Jackass: This is the person who sees most everything as beneath them and their superior level of function. The self-evaluation fails here because the egotistical jackass will never consciously acknowledge that they have room for improvement; if they do it tends to be something inane like "I will try not to make the other students as jealous of my awesomeness." (You think I am lying, but there are definitely students like this out there. Sometimes they actually are pretty good, and sometimes not. Sometimes their ego is kind of endearing, and sometimes it makes you want to tie their vulnerable appendages to your car bumper and drive off.)
-The Oblivious and Often Inappropriate Nutbar: Again, it is surprising how many there are. Most of these people, in my opinion, simply lack introspective prowesses. They say and do ridiculous things and don't seem to understand why they are wildly inappropriate. Example: one of my fellow students, who is so strange and inappropriate that it would not surprise me in the least to learn that he is actually a humanoid robot shell operated by alien beings, actually started pimping us, our interns and our senior resident in the middle of rounds. By name. As in, "(Senior Resident's name), why don't you tell us some metabolic derangements you might see with this disease." It would have been even funnier if it wasn't so sad. Asking them to figure out how they can improve is like asking an cow to derive the equations of motion.
-The Paranoid, Insecure Self-Torturer: I think I fall into this category, and I think the result of self-evaluation for most of us is as I described above. The last thing we need is more stuff to beat ourselves up about.
I think the main goal of this self-evaluation stuff is to come up with an "action plan"; that is, a way to address the areas you think need to be improved. Again, in light of the Three Major Types of Student, I think this step is not useful. The egotistical jackass has not come up with anything reasonable to improve, so it's kind of a moot point there. The Oblivious and Often Inappropriate Nutbar... well, it's best not to delve deeper into their psyche. And the Paranoid, Insecure Self-Torturer formulates about 20 action plans for their perceived areas of weakness every single day on their way home, so to ask them to do it formally is to risk pushing them into Generalized Insecurity Paralysis (GIP) which I think we can all agree is counter-productive.
All that being said, my session was somewhat helpful for me. For instance, my attending moved several areas of self-perceived weakness into the "strengths" category, which was honestly a load off of my mind. Example: my knowledge base. I always feel behind my peers, so having an attending tell me that wasn't true was frankly a load off of my mind. She also did point out that some things I perceived as deficits in my presentations were actually not an issue, but that my lack of confidence was; and as I had not realized my insecurity was so apparent, that was a helpful observation.
So, med school bigwigs, on behalf of my other equally though differently dysfunctional classmates, just tell us what we are good at, and what we suck at, so we can go back to being in denial, or insane, or self-deprecating. Thank you, and I hope I've given you a plan for improvement.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Like Being in the Ring with Mike Tyson
That is what it's like on the wards for a 3rd year medical student.
You step into the ring and KAPOW!!! You're reeling, you try to shake it off, but before you can JABJABJAB! BODY BLOW! You hit the canvas, they're counting, you stagger to your feet and KABLAM!! Lights out.
What I mean here is, it's tough on the wards for people like me, still trying to figure out what the hell is going on. As soon as you recover from one mistake, you make a complete ass of yourself in front of your team and possibly trip over an IV on your way out. One time I dropped something on a patient's leg, right where she had just had a skin graft. She cried. It was horrible.
Dumbass Moment 1: Presentations during rounds
I swear to God, it doesn't seem to matter what time I get to the hospital to prepare, how much reading I do about my patient, how carefully I write out what I need to say. I cannot seem to get through a single presentation without making some mistake. I wish I could say that I make a new and different mistake every time, but sadly, that is not the case. There is a set of mistakes that I make over and over and over again, forcing the attending to ask things like "So why is this patient here?" and "Are you sure their heart exam was normal? Because that child has a murmur you can hear from Mars." In addition, I'm generally spastic and strange throughout most of my presentations (see "Medical Tourette's" below). You are supposed to go in a very specific order, and sometimes I'll make it the whole way through the presentation, but then people are still looking at me, so I'll just kind of yell "LASIX 30mg PO BID" for no reason.
Yesterday I presented a new patient. I had a particularly bad day the day before, so I worked very hard to shake it off and make it my best presentation, and when I finished, I felt great... for about two seconds. Then a fellow pointed out that I had said "lungs clear to auscultation, except for some scattered wheezes". That's like saying "patient is doing well, except that he is dead". Last week I was actually given a very complex patient to follow, but after one horrible crash-and-burn presentation they switched me to a patient just saying overnight after a percutaneous cath. It was like "There, there. Give mommy the power tool. Here is a nice soft plastic block with rounded edges."
Dumbass Moment 2: Totally off-base answer to pimping question
This happens to me a lot. They'll ask something like, "What is something in your differential diagnosis for lower abdominal pain?" And I'll just blurt out "CHEST TOAD!" It's like I have Medical Tourette's. I say completely idiotic things, and I say them loudly. It's horrible.
Dumbass Moment 3: Flubbing the Interview/Exam in Front of a Patient
I have done this plenty, but my favorite example is actually something a fellow medical student said. He was interviewing a patient's mom about her daughter's vomiting, and he actually said, "Any pets? How about a beaver?"
These are just a few examples of classic Ward Dumbass Moments. There are many more. What makes is hard is that these are inevitably scattered throughout every single day, and you have to find a way to immediately recover from the humiliation and shame so that you can go back to making the next mistake. It's very exhausting. So far Mike hasn't gone for my ear, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time.
You step into the ring and KAPOW!!! You're reeling, you try to shake it off, but before you can JABJABJAB! BODY BLOW! You hit the canvas, they're counting, you stagger to your feet and KABLAM!! Lights out.
What I mean here is, it's tough on the wards for people like me, still trying to figure out what the hell is going on. As soon as you recover from one mistake, you make a complete ass of yourself in front of your team and possibly trip over an IV on your way out. One time I dropped something on a patient's leg, right where she had just had a skin graft. She cried. It was horrible.
Dumbass Moment 1: Presentations during rounds
I swear to God, it doesn't seem to matter what time I get to the hospital to prepare, how much reading I do about my patient, how carefully I write out what I need to say. I cannot seem to get through a single presentation without making some mistake. I wish I could say that I make a new and different mistake every time, but sadly, that is not the case. There is a set of mistakes that I make over and over and over again, forcing the attending to ask things like "So why is this patient here?" and "Are you sure their heart exam was normal? Because that child has a murmur you can hear from Mars." In addition, I'm generally spastic and strange throughout most of my presentations (see "Medical Tourette's" below). You are supposed to go in a very specific order, and sometimes I'll make it the whole way through the presentation, but then people are still looking at me, so I'll just kind of yell "LASIX 30mg PO BID" for no reason.
Yesterday I presented a new patient. I had a particularly bad day the day before, so I worked very hard to shake it off and make it my best presentation, and when I finished, I felt great... for about two seconds. Then a fellow pointed out that I had said "lungs clear to auscultation, except for some scattered wheezes". That's like saying "patient is doing well, except that he is dead". Last week I was actually given a very complex patient to follow, but after one horrible crash-and-burn presentation they switched me to a patient just saying overnight after a percutaneous cath. It was like "There, there. Give mommy the power tool. Here is a nice soft plastic block with rounded edges."
Dumbass Moment 2: Totally off-base answer to pimping question
This happens to me a lot. They'll ask something like, "What is something in your differential diagnosis for lower abdominal pain?" And I'll just blurt out "CHEST TOAD!" It's like I have Medical Tourette's. I say completely idiotic things, and I say them loudly. It's horrible.
Dumbass Moment 3: Flubbing the Interview/Exam in Front of a Patient
I have done this plenty, but my favorite example is actually something a fellow medical student said. He was interviewing a patient's mom about her daughter's vomiting, and he actually said, "Any pets? How about a beaver?"
These are just a few examples of classic Ward Dumbass Moments. There are many more. What makes is hard is that these are inevitably scattered throughout every single day, and you have to find a way to immediately recover from the humiliation and shame so that you can go back to making the next mistake. It's very exhausting. So far Mike hasn't gone for my ear, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
FanTASTIC
Now playing on Lifetime Movie Network:
(I swear this is true):
"Baby Monitor: Sound of Fear"
I sure wish I had more time to kill... this post would be followed by a review.
(I swear this is true):
"Baby Monitor: Sound of Fear"
I sure wish I had more time to kill... this post would be followed by a review.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Back to clinic... now how do I use this stethamathingy again?
I start Pediatrics tomorrow morning after having a super fantastic three week vacation, and I have to say, I'm pretty nervous. I feel like I have actually forgotten stuff, as weird as that sounds. It's amazing how quickly that pile of information starts to drift away.
I have high hopes for this rotation... I think I will really enjoy it, if I can somehow get back into the constantly working mode I was in before. For the rest of the year, my longest vacation will be one week, and I hate to say it but I think that is for the best. My poor brain needs as much help as it can get.
In other news it looks like I am going to have to have an upper endoscopy, and this brings up something I've been thinking about: how much harder it is to be sick or to be a patient when you've seen the behind-the-scenes action. I know for a fact I would not be one tenth as freaked out at the prospect of an upper endoscopy if I hadn't seen one done. But I have. And I am totally dreading it.
The other part of this is that I know all of the Really Bad Things they have to rule out. You start to be able to look at yourself from the outside, as if you were just one of your patients. It is not a good place to be, believe me. Anyway, I am hoping to get this over with as soon as possible and I will write all about it. After all, it's important to remember that the people we treat are no different than us. They need compassion, understanding, and most of all, Versed.
Lots of Versed.
Hopefully, all I'll write about is how I can't remember a thing about the upper endoscopy. In the meantime, I have to go get started on some reading. You see, unlike most of my classmates, I don't remember jack about EKGs or electrolytes or acid-base balance, so I have to relearn these things in addition to learning all of the other mounds of stuff for this rotation. So off I go, to read about bundle branch block and dream of being the person with the huge camera being stuffed down my throat... and an IV full of Versed.
I have high hopes for this rotation... I think I will really enjoy it, if I can somehow get back into the constantly working mode I was in before. For the rest of the year, my longest vacation will be one week, and I hate to say it but I think that is for the best. My poor brain needs as much help as it can get.
In other news it looks like I am going to have to have an upper endoscopy, and this brings up something I've been thinking about: how much harder it is to be sick or to be a patient when you've seen the behind-the-scenes action. I know for a fact I would not be one tenth as freaked out at the prospect of an upper endoscopy if I hadn't seen one done. But I have. And I am totally dreading it.
The other part of this is that I know all of the Really Bad Things they have to rule out. You start to be able to look at yourself from the outside, as if you were just one of your patients. It is not a good place to be, believe me. Anyway, I am hoping to get this over with as soon as possible and I will write all about it. After all, it's important to remember that the people we treat are no different than us. They need compassion, understanding, and most of all, Versed.
Lots of Versed.
Hopefully, all I'll write about is how I can't remember a thing about the upper endoscopy. In the meantime, I have to go get started on some reading. You see, unlike most of my classmates, I don't remember jack about EKGs or electrolytes or acid-base balance, so I have to relearn these things in addition to learning all of the other mounds of stuff for this rotation. So off I go, to read about bundle branch block and dream of being the person with the huge camera being stuffed down my throat... and an IV full of Versed.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
MD/PhDs are people, too
A theme has emerged lately, and I've been thinking about it a lot.
The first incident was a comment made by a higher-up my husband was meeting with to discuss his then upcoming residency applications. Now, I know I'm biased, but my husband kicks just about all the academic ass there is (it ain't braggin' if it's true). The guy is just amazing. Reduce him to numbers, and he's amazing; look at his personal recommendations from all kinds of people, and he's amazing. He basically lacks chinks in his application armor. Yes, his armor is chinkless. It's actually quite exasperating, following a guy like that through the program. But that's a discussion for another day.
Anyway, the doc he met with was very nice and supportive and was going through my hubby's app with him, making various suggestions about how to present things, etc. The really interesting thing came when they started talking about letters of recommendation. You are only allowed so many, so they usually advise you to chose the authors carefully. My husband had a long list of impressive people who said they would be happy to write him a great letter (did I mention exasperating?) and was asking the doc's advice on which would be best to include. Here is what they guy said.
"It's important, since you are an MD/PhD, to have a letter which says you can interact well with patients and staff. People tend to think of MD/PhDs as lab geeks who lack social skills."
We both thought that was interesting, but mostly just funny. I mean, at least in our program, there are tons of really cool people who have sufficient to superfluous social skills. Yes, there are definitely individuals whose social abilities are roughly equivalent to, say, Michael Myers, but I know quite a few straight MD students who are the same. I don't think the percentages are any different; if anything, I'd argue that there are more functional MD/PhDs. So, I had decided that that particular doc had maybe had some unfortunate run-ins with socially handicapped mudphuds, and was therefore unfairly biased.
Then, just a few weeks after that, I was hanging out with my family medicine preceptor and another doc in his practice, and one asked the other about something, I can't even remember what, but something about the disease I studied for my PhD. The other doc didn't know, but I did, so I started explaining how we thought things worked and a little about my research. This started some teasing on their part which continued throughout the remainder of my rotation, and the gist of the teasing was: Boy, you sure are a science nerd! I thought it was odd, since the "science" they teased me about knowing was the basis of medicine, but whatever.
Additional thoughts on this were:
1. I know I probably do qualify as a science nerd, and
2. I did actually like both of the docs quite a bit, but...
3. HEY!
Perhaps I wouldn't have even remembered all of this, except for the real corker, which was that at the end of the rotation when my preceptor was evaluating me, he told me how amazed he was that I was maybe the best med student he had ever had when it came to interacting with patients and staff, "even though you're an MD/PhD."
Okay... WHAT?
And possibly, HEY!
I don't get it. What do people see us as? Giant albino cave-dwelling mutants with a crippling stutter? Or maybe we can only carry on conversations if the topic is meiosis in fruit flies? Allow me to re-emphasise that some of the weirdest, least socially functional people I have ever met are either 1. doctors or 2. training to be doctors. Are there total freakish, socially inept dorks in research? Does the pope wear a funny hat? Of course there are. But let he who is without dorkiness cast the first stone, docs.
It also kind of scares me that there are doctors out there that think of science as "nerdy". HELLO! You're a flippin' doctor, man! Have you really divorced medicine from science to the point where you can feel like a varsity jock compared to the nerdling members of the Chemistry Club? Give me a break.
I will not even go into how they actually said that it was a good thing I was already married, because being a female "super smart science nerd" is not appealing to men.
Excuse me for a moment of stunned silence.
Okay, I'm back. Anyway, in my thinking about this, I've been wondering: Is our program an exception? Are most MD/PhD's social bulls in the china shop of medicine? Are we really that much geekier than regular doctors? I mean, we can't be more socially inept than most surgeons, right? If I had a nickel for every time I saw a surgeon make a patient cry, I'd have--let's see--at least 25 cents... which, okay, is not a lot, but let's not forget I haven't been in the clinic very much. What if I told you that once, after the very empathetic move of breaking the news that a patient had cancer by reading it directly from the chart to her, a surgeon I worked with was distracted by the crying of the patient, paused the reading aloud mid-sentence, looked up from the chart and said (clearly irritated), "Can I go on?"
I mean, we can't be worse than that, can we?
In closing, I would like to say that I know lots of super great mudphuds, and we are not mutants, thank you very much, and we may be smart and enjoy learning but there is no need to assume that we are all weirdo loser geeks who never talk to normal people. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go catalog my Star Wars figurines.
The first incident was a comment made by a higher-up my husband was meeting with to discuss his then upcoming residency applications. Now, I know I'm biased, but my husband kicks just about all the academic ass there is (it ain't braggin' if it's true). The guy is just amazing. Reduce him to numbers, and he's amazing; look at his personal recommendations from all kinds of people, and he's amazing. He basically lacks chinks in his application armor. Yes, his armor is chinkless. It's actually quite exasperating, following a guy like that through the program. But that's a discussion for another day.
Anyway, the doc he met with was very nice and supportive and was going through my hubby's app with him, making various suggestions about how to present things, etc. The really interesting thing came when they started talking about letters of recommendation. You are only allowed so many, so they usually advise you to chose the authors carefully. My husband had a long list of impressive people who said they would be happy to write him a great letter (did I mention exasperating?) and was asking the doc's advice on which would be best to include. Here is what they guy said.
"It's important, since you are an MD/PhD, to have a letter which says you can interact well with patients and staff. People tend to think of MD/PhDs as lab geeks who lack social skills."
We both thought that was interesting, but mostly just funny. I mean, at least in our program, there are tons of really cool people who have sufficient to superfluous social skills. Yes, there are definitely individuals whose social abilities are roughly equivalent to, say, Michael Myers, but I know quite a few straight MD students who are the same. I don't think the percentages are any different; if anything, I'd argue that there are more functional MD/PhDs. So, I had decided that that particular doc had maybe had some unfortunate run-ins with socially handicapped mudphuds, and was therefore unfairly biased.
Then, just a few weeks after that, I was hanging out with my family medicine preceptor and another doc in his practice, and one asked the other about something, I can't even remember what, but something about the disease I studied for my PhD. The other doc didn't know, but I did, so I started explaining how we thought things worked and a little about my research. This started some teasing on their part which continued throughout the remainder of my rotation, and the gist of the teasing was: Boy, you sure are a science nerd! I thought it was odd, since the "science" they teased me about knowing was the basis of medicine, but whatever.
Additional thoughts on this were:
1. I know I probably do qualify as a science nerd, and
2. I did actually like both of the docs quite a bit, but...
3. HEY!
Perhaps I wouldn't have even remembered all of this, except for the real corker, which was that at the end of the rotation when my preceptor was evaluating me, he told me how amazed he was that I was maybe the best med student he had ever had when it came to interacting with patients and staff, "even though you're an MD/PhD."
Okay... WHAT?
And possibly, HEY!
I don't get it. What do people see us as? Giant albino cave-dwelling mutants with a crippling stutter? Or maybe we can only carry on conversations if the topic is meiosis in fruit flies? Allow me to re-emphasise that some of the weirdest, least socially functional people I have ever met are either 1. doctors or 2. training to be doctors. Are there total freakish, socially inept dorks in research? Does the pope wear a funny hat? Of course there are. But let he who is without dorkiness cast the first stone, docs.
It also kind of scares me that there are doctors out there that think of science as "nerdy". HELLO! You're a flippin' doctor, man! Have you really divorced medicine from science to the point where you can feel like a varsity jock compared to the nerdling members of the Chemistry Club? Give me a break.
I will not even go into how they actually said that it was a good thing I was already married, because being a female "super smart science nerd" is not appealing to men.
Excuse me for a moment of stunned silence.
Okay, I'm back. Anyway, in my thinking about this, I've been wondering: Is our program an exception? Are most MD/PhD's social bulls in the china shop of medicine? Are we really that much geekier than regular doctors? I mean, we can't be more socially inept than most surgeons, right? If I had a nickel for every time I saw a surgeon make a patient cry, I'd have--let's see--at least 25 cents... which, okay, is not a lot, but let's not forget I haven't been in the clinic very much. What if I told you that once, after the very empathetic move of breaking the news that a patient had cancer by reading it directly from the chart to her, a surgeon I worked with was distracted by the crying of the patient, paused the reading aloud mid-sentence, looked up from the chart and said (clearly irritated), "Can I go on?"
I mean, we can't be worse than that, can we?
In closing, I would like to say that I know lots of super great mudphuds, and we are not mutants, thank you very much, and we may be smart and enjoy learning but there is no need to assume that we are all weirdo loser geeks who never talk to normal people. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go catalog my Star Wars figurines.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Sprechen Sie AWESOME?
So the hubby and I decided that we've earned it, and goshdarnit, we're going to Europe.
We have been talking about it for a while, but were too busy to really plan it. So when we started looking at tickets and there were some good deals to Germany, we decided, what the hell. Let's do it.
I am SO EXCITED, and am in the throes of planning right now. My husband is currently studying for Step 2 of the boards, which he takes soon, and then we're outta here. The great news for him is that after this exam the pressure is basically off for a good long while; he has interviews, which should be fun, and lots of months without any required stuff to do. So, for the first time in literally years, I get to spend some time with my husband where neither of us have anything--no publications or dissertations to work on, no applications to finish or big exams to study for--that we have to do. We can read fun books, travel, and talk. It's pretty stunning.
In other news, I am two months away from being half way through 3rd year. Unreal. The main survival technique I've learned for not just getting through, but doing well in 3rd year is: Study every day, for at least 1 hour. More is good, but less gets dicey. It is definitely hard to do after a loooooooong day in the hospital or clinic, but it is what has to happen. It is also rewarding to start occasionally knowing things when attendings pimp you.
Okay, I have to get back to tracking down a room in Munich, and trying to relearn cardiology before I start my next rotation. Such is the life of a medical student...
I can't complain.
We have been talking about it for a while, but were too busy to really plan it. So when we started looking at tickets and there were some good deals to Germany, we decided, what the hell. Let's do it.
I am SO EXCITED, and am in the throes of planning right now. My husband is currently studying for Step 2 of the boards, which he takes soon, and then we're outta here. The great news for him is that after this exam the pressure is basically off for a good long while; he has interviews, which should be fun, and lots of months without any required stuff to do. So, for the first time in literally years, I get to spend some time with my husband where neither of us have anything--no publications or dissertations to work on, no applications to finish or big exams to study for--that we have to do. We can read fun books, travel, and talk. It's pretty stunning.
In other news, I am two months away from being half way through 3rd year. Unreal. The main survival technique I've learned for not just getting through, but doing well in 3rd year is: Study every day, for at least 1 hour. More is good, but less gets dicey. It is definitely hard to do after a loooooooong day in the hospital or clinic, but it is what has to happen. It is also rewarding to start occasionally knowing things when attendings pimp you.
Okay, I have to get back to tracking down a room in Munich, and trying to relearn cardiology before I start my next rotation. Such is the life of a medical student...
I can't complain.
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