Yesterday, the dean of the medical school (and the second-in-command of the entire medical center) invited all the first years over to his house for a “picnic.” This is an annual tradition at my medical school and is a well-attended, casual affair. In the original invitation (which we received on Day One of orientation), the message states, “You Will Swim.” Continue reading
medical school
The First Patient! (Sort Of)
When my grandfather attended medical school back in the day, students had very little (if any) hands-on training with patients until the third year, when they rotated through the hospital wards. Medical schools now recognize the imperative to expose their future doctors to doctoring early and often and many advertise “PATIENT CONTACT ON DAY 1!!” as a selling point for their institution, right next to the pictures of smiling attractive young people in white coats fluidly wielding their stethoscopes. Continue reading
Uh Oh, Biochemistry
Week one of medical school (not counting our foundational unit) is in the books, and I have a problem.
I don’t learn biochemistry. Continue reading
Med School Begins! …Kind Of
The last time I posted, I was living in a different city, gainfully funemployed, and still technically a premedical student. Three weeks ago I moved in to another apartment (that’s five moves in three years, if you’re counting) and two Wednesdays ago started medical school.
So this blog will change a little bit, from highlighting the weirdnesses of being a postbac/applying to medical school to highlighting the trials of learning to be a doctor. Scary, but awesome. As I did with the premedical stuff, I’m going to try to be funny (current hit rate: around 20%) and I promise not to complain too much about how much work we have, because again we all know people that do that and they suck. Continue reading
The Bullet Point Chronicles
March 15 has come and gone. After almost a full calendar year of applying to med school, the 2013 application cycle is finally over.
Finally.
To recap how much the past year has sucked, please see the list below of Things Applicants Had To Do This Year While You Were Out Having Fun. It begins in April of 2012. It’s long. Continue reading
Show Me Something
A couple of weeks ago, the program director for my postbac program sent me an email asking if I’d participate in a panel discussion for this year’s current inmates (the kids going through the wringer like I did last year) about the interview process. It dawned on me that my cohort is exactly a year removed from when we began the application process last year.
If you’ll remember from my timeline post, The Long Haul Begins, the primary med school application doesn’t even open until June. On the advice of this same program director, we were told to start our personal statements over winter break – for me, just over a year ago. Continue reading
Interview Season is Over!
After nearly three months, seven round-trip flights, two experiences on Amtrak, and an exhausting number of hours in airports and security lines, my interview cycle is over. I can triumphantly report that, regardless of where or to how few schools I gain admission, I have no idea where I want to be, what I want to study, or how I want to learn.
Oh, if you stop by my desk at work, I’ve arrayed my little collection of name tags (yes, I saved every one, because that’s what narcissists with OCD do) into groupings that ostensibly represent my preferences and rankings, but I change it every day. So I really do have no idea. Continue reading
The Reservoir of Nice
For as much general vitriol I spew forth on this blog, I like to think I’m a pretty nice guy. I like people. I am friendly to gate agents when my flight is delayed. I used to send a “daily dose” of internet humor around to co-workers every morning.
At an interview, you’re supposed to be yourself, and I generally am. But I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon: the night of and day after an interview, particularly one for which I’ve had to travel, I am not nice. For lack of a better word, I am an asshole. Continue reading
The First Interview, and A Near-Disaster
I was walking from the middle of campus to the medical education building (okay, I was wandering, because I was lost) to start my interview day when I spotted a gangly-looking Asian kid in a clearly new suit walking in the same direction. He was, like me, lugging around a suitcase. I lasered in on what had to be a fellow applicant.
I introduced myself, shook the kid’s hand, and made a little small talk.
“I’m from Charlotte,” he said. I put on my best wry smile, which looks kind of like a grimace; it throws people off. I knew what was coming. Where did he go to school? Carolina. Oh, really? Me, too! That’s so funny that we’re both here and yadda yadda… Continue reading
The Illusion of Choice
As a high school senior, I applied to six colleges. Had I chosen my own application path, I would have applied to two, maybe three schools, but my parents insisted.
Those two schools were similar in almost every way. Both were located in the South. Both were large state schools at the top of the academic totem pole. Both had strong sports programs and both had beautiful campuses.
(In case you haven’t figured it out, the two schools were the University of Virginia and the University of North Carolina.)
I made my final decision, two days before the deadline, on three factors:
- School color
- Girl hotness
- Prevailing fashion sense.
crashing resident 