It is hard to believe, but my first year of medical school is about halfway over. I've learned so much, and yet still have so much to learn. I'd like to write about some of my experiences while they are still fresh in my mind.
Entering my first year of medical school, I had wanted to pursue a career as either an orthopaedic surgeon or a pediatrician. Now, having seen so much, I am no longer sure what route I would like to take. Everything seems so interesting.
The first case we talked about in PBL was that of Anthony Farmer. A 10 month old African-American from the near south side of Chicago. Small for his age, Anthony had been born at home by a midwife. His mother brought him to the hospital because he was crying constantly, "spitting up", and his extremities seemed swollen. It was hard at first to know which questions to ask and research, but I think my PBL group got the hang of it very quickly.
--
Later that same month, Oprah shut down all of Michigan Avenue (like 2 blocks from campus) and had the Black Eyed Peas perform. While I missed the BEPs, I could hear everything else from my room.
--
In September, I had the opportunity to help organize a free health clinic for the homeless in Chicago. We managed to provide basic health screens more that 100 people. While there still is a lot of work to do in Chicago when it comes to serving the underprivileged, I am thankful for the small things we could contribute.
--
More recently, as part of the "Patient, Physician, and Society" curriculum, we started working with standardized patients (SP, actors hired to act like patients) in our communications class. These sessions with patients have been a welcome relief from biochemistry, anatomy, and histology. Towards the end of this unit, each student was assigned a "difficult topic" to speak with an SP about. Some topics were somewhat humorous (Telling a little girl that she could not keep her puppy because she was allergic to it), some topics were edgy (dealing with a racist patient), and others were very serious (having to admit a medical mistake to a patient). My topic was quite grave. I was responsible for informing a patient that she had late stage pancreatic cancer and likely had less than 1 year to live.
--
In this first year, we also began dissections of cadavers. The following is the creative essay I wrote about the experience of making the first incision into our cadaver.
"Mankind's admiration for the miracle of life is perhaps equaled only by his fear and fascination with death. From the faint beating of a heart a mere three weeks past conception, to the electrical impulses that eventually give rise to thought, the ostensibly chaotic, and yet beautifully orchestrated cascade of events that result in a cognitive, intelligent, and autonomous human being is eclipsed only by the uncertainty of what becomes a sentient being when its physical elements cease to function. Despite advances in scientific reasoning and logic, an aura of mysticism continues to pervade the societal perception of Death, and the empty vessels it leaves behind are eerie reminders of the lives that once existed in them. My first incision into Beverly was thus steeped in whirlpools of reflection and fueled only by adrenaline.
In one smooth motion, my scalpel sank serenely through Beverley's age-spotted breast. The ease with which I sliced slowly through her outer body wall belied the dull persistent stabbing sensation on the walls of my stream of consciousness: This lab reeks of phenol and formaldehyde. What was her life like? I don't think I'll be eating meat for a while. Was her laughter sonorous? My gloves are now covered in grease. To whom did she turn when she cried? My scalpel is quickly losing its edge. What caused her descent into dementia? I don't want to see her face...
Somewhere, a few remnants of Beverley's being exist in the memories of her family and loved ones; perhaps I and not Death am now severing the final links between Beverley's physical self and the person she once was. I am told that this is necessary for my medical education. Learning now will help preclude mistakes when a real life is at odds. A real life? A real life.
As a future physician, I must learn to stare Death in the face and, at the very least, hide my fear. I must learn to negotiate with Death and to tell it that its time has not yet come. I must learn to mend the physical body but also to tend to the metaphysical being. Ultimately, though, I must accept life and death as being inextricably intertwined. Homer once said that “life and death are balanced on the edge of the razor.” When that razor is mine, perhaps I will have Beverly to thank for it."
----
So, what do I like most about my first year of medical school? Obviously, not the tests or the endless hours of pouring over notes and lecture slides. No, I have enjoyed medical school so far, because I feel like I am starting to understand my purpose in life. I decided on a career in medicine because I saw suffering and wanted to do something about it. As an M1, I have been given glimpses of what that might be like.
In a few weeks, I will be headed to Hagley Gap, Jamaica on a medical mission trip. I have always been skeptical of mission trips, believing them to be self-serving - in the sense that they give us a false sense of "doing good" - and unsustainable. After examining my motives, however, I am resolved to participate in this trip with an open mind and to learn how to better serve people from all different backgrounds.
I am also hoping that we will be able to make a quick pit-stop at a beach of some sort :)
No comments:
Post a Comment