Second Term: Reality Bites 

Be careful what you wish for…

We've only been back a few weeks and I’m exhausted. There are 3 months of this before we get another break.

There has certainly been a change in atmosphere. There’s a sickly sense of panic pervading the year. We’re all considerably more stressed. The novelty factor has worn off and we’re realising we’ve another 6 months of this relentless pace to negotiate. This is the term when the assessment deadlines and exams come thick and fast. There is SO much to do and NO TIME to do it in.

We have our first OSCE. I’m dreading it. Even though I’m sure the fear of expectation is worse than what I’ll go through it’s the realisation that they can assess you on ANYTHING they’ve taught you on the course so far that paralyses me. And it’s not simply clinical and communication skills. It’s interpreting risk or X-rays (although we’re no longer to call them that, these days they’re radiographs). It looked like so much fun when I was on the other side. Now I realise this is a slog. I keep telling myself when I get to do clinical attachments next year it’ll be better. All I seem to do instead is focus on the growing list of things that need to be done. I just wish I could relax and enjoy the fact I have no clinical responsibilities this year. And remember how coveted my place is.

A trip down memory lane

It’s been quite bizarre seeing the next cohort around for their interviews. They stick out like sore thumbs. It’s the super smart appearance and alertness. Already I’ve embraced being able to wear jeans on lecture only days, as I know these days are numbered. My wardrobe ranges form professional ‘ward attire’ to the bona fide student look. Most of the time I’m in a caffeine stimulated haze of sleep deprivation (excellent training for the foundation years) that no amount of accessorising can disguise. But I remember how much time I invested in getting the ‘right’ interview outfit. Which brings me back to the interviewees.

One lunch break I (metaphorically) poured myself a large glass of Schadenfreude (2010 vintage) and watched the overdressed stressed candidates file past. I know how much so many invest in this, and that for some it’s another attempt. I admire their bravery. I think it’s tougher when you have an idea of how the system works. I know I didn’t enjoy my interview at all. And I did the ridiculous thing we all tell ourselves we won’t do (but immediately fell into the trap) which is to over analyse EVERYTHING about the day. And then becoming increasingly cross about the stupid things I did and said.

And I realise how far I’ve come. How much I take for granted. How I love being here even though I never relax or feel as though I’ve mastered a thing! That already the next generation of medics are being chosen. And that in three and a half years I shouldn’t be introducing myself as a first year medical student but as a doctor. And how I’ll probably look back on this first year, only with a glass of Nostalgia this time, and reminisce about the carefree preclinical days where I didn’t know what responsibility was or have to be on call.

ECG
We have just been introduced to how to read ECGs. It’s horrendous. It’s proper physics! I’m seeing (yet again) how cleverly designed the GAMSAT is. It’s an unavoidable truth that we will need to know how to read these. And a shocking reality that so many doctors don’t know how to read them properly. We were told it will probably take us around 45 minutes to read our first ECG but that an expert reads them in 5 – 10 seconds. And we can’t rely on looking for pattern recognition (as, say, a paramedic would be trained to do), as we need to understand the finer details. There’s no avoiding the fact that I’m going to have to put hours and hours of practice into this. And I don’t believe that anyone has made the subject easily accessible. Even ‘ECGs Made Easy’ by John R. Hampton is impenetrable to me! At least I have My First ECG (quite a cool thing to do at school) to show for a session. It’s just a shame I can’t read it. Yet.

BLS
We are constantly assessed on our Basic Life Support (BLS) knowledge. This is a hurdle assessment (i.e. has to be passed in order to complete the year) and requires a 100% score to pass (the only assessment or examination to my knowledge we do as undergraduates involving such a high pass mark). The likelihood of me actually performing CPR ‘out and about’ whilst a medical student is extremely unlikely. Yet I appreciate we must be prepared. Just in case. There is, after all, an expectation amongst family and friends that we now know things; so if little Jonnie starts choking on a sausage roll I should know what to do to stop him choking.

But here’s the crazy part. Someone on my course, who is a trained paramedic and has dealt with cardiac arrests hundreds of times, failed. Because they didn’t to do it the ‘academic’ way but the way it’s done in real life. Makes me realise that there are plenty of people on this course who have to undo a lot of what they know and re-learn it. And I think that may be more challenging than the sheer bewilderment that I’m going through.