So, 4th year. I don't want to jinx it but I've got a feeling that it's going to be a good one.
Currently in my second week of my Psych and Neuro placement, although because of introductory lectures and me being ill with the flu and conjunctivitis I've done one day of Psych and absolutely no Neuro. Really hoping that Psych picks up next week - I've been looking forward to it but haven't really enjoyed it yet. Too many...memories, if that's the right word. Still, the doctors are amazing, and I've seen the benefit of a good conversation with someone who actually cares. I've also seen first hand the damaging effect that ATOS can have on vulnerable patients, so there's that.
Just come off a Surgery placement where, ironically, I did very little surgery. Had some great opportunities (like helping to open up) but I never want to do another DRE for as long as I live. We did one week of ENT. One week. We've never done ENT before, not even in lectures. It was barely touched on in anatomy. We are now expected to know all the ENT we would need should we have an F1 job in the speciality. Scary.
What's even scarier is that this time next year I'll be applying for F1 posts. 21 months before I (hopefully) graduate. Scary doesn't even begin to cover it. I look at my friend in the year above who I've know since we were 11 and in Year 7 together and she seems to know everything; she's so competent as a doctor. I've got 12 months to get to that point and, frankly, I don't see it happening. But life's a learning curve, isn't it? It'll be fine.
Elective planning is going well - as long as nothing falls through I should be joining a Medical Humanities research group at Stanford University. I really need some funding though - America is bloody expensive bro! My friend was moaning that she had to pay almost £500 for her elective accommodation. I'll be paying double that at least. But there are lots of funding opportunites out there; just need to apply!
Anyway, I'm off. This was a very boring post. Hope you're all well.
(All image rights to Google Images. I thank you).
Saturday, 5 October 2013
Friday, 4 October 2013
I wrote a poem. It is not good, but because I've neglected blogger of late I thought I'd share.
Just keep trudging on
It’s been three years
Since the day I asked you to label me.
Three years since the relief that I wasn’t imagining what I was feeling.
It was real
Three years since I sat on the edge of the bed
With a box of z-drugs
(That I now know wouldn’t have made a difference)
But considered making that difference
To my place in the world.
Three years of the worst kind of rollercoaster
And I don’t even like rollercoasters.
Of swings and roundabouts
Of “just keep going
because there’s nothing else we can do”.
I’ve spend nights trying to hide
from the images tattooed on the inside of my eyes.
But things have got better:
I can smile for days at a time.
Love that everything is good
(Whilst fearing that it will come back)
And it does always does come back.
A constant tug of war for my emotional integrity.
I don’t want to fight anymore
But I don’t want to let it win.
That alone is exhausting.
Could be worse, eh?