Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Doctor's sexy symbol: stethoscope

Everyone was excited at the lecture theater, chattering and shouting, especially the girls – extreme enthusiasm overflowing from their heads today, otherwise it would be about myocardial infarction or penicillin that would overflow from a medical student’s head. All in the excitement was the stethoscope – the sexy symbol of a doctor.

I have grown up watching how people were dignified in the white coat with the stethoscope over. And now that I have finally got a steth for myself, I hardly believe that I would be treating patients with him over my shoulder. Well, I must better learn how to use the steth than romanticize about it. 

A random sample...

In the past one year at a medical school, we have delved into the depths of human body as well as the human society. We studied even the minutest cells in our body as well as how doctors must hold up professionally in the community.

Given the spectrum of knowledge and skills that we have to master, it is quite justifiable that MB BS takes not less than six years of intensive study. How heavy studying medicine could be is clearly shown in the number of people who sleep in the lectures. It is intellectually challenging as well as physically not forgiving as we have to keep ourselves standing and going around the wards, sometimes eight hours at a stretch.

Not only does it affect us personally, it also influences our social relationship. There was a friend of mine who broke up with her girlfriend simply because he could not give her adequate time. But nonetheless, medical students, excluding myself, date among themselves. This, I guess, is purely to save time of studying. If the guy studied chapter one, the girl could study chapter two. And they could discuss about both chapter one and two at a date - so, it is always a win-win situation over time.

Medical students do not get time for leisure - that is the accepted norm. However, no human machine can go on working for the whole day. It happened recently that we had lectures from 8:00 am til 12:15 pm. It was a four hour continuous shot only to be worsened by a practical session that ran immediately after the lecture, from 12:15 pm till 3:15 pm. Tired and hungry, I could barely keep my eyes staring through the microscopes at those tiny malaria parasites.

The story doesn't end here. Me and my friend rushed to the canteen right after the practicals as we were running hypoglycaemic, or in simple terms, we were running low in petrol of our body - extremely hungry. Well, it is a common sense question but sometimes most doctors overlook common sense. What I mean to say is that 3:15 is not a lunch time. So there was no rice and curry at the canteen. This makes me doubt whether medical students are really more intelligent than others.

Sunday, 22 January 2012

Friday - the Love of My Life

Once there was a research which said Wednesday was the most stressful day of the week. But for me personally, I find all weekdays uninteresting unless it gave us a lot of free period in its schedule.

Mondays would be the hardest of all days. It is the bad day that takes away all my smiles and light heart. I would have to will myself with tiresome effort to get off the bed. I often try to get a few minutes more by sleeping on the couch before I get myself washed and freshened up. Another factor is the proximity to college. If I walked fast, I would be there in no more than five minutes – so why can’t I sleep some more. Well, to be honest, distance must not be blamed but Monday himself.

Nothing more to say about the other weekdays, which are seemingly as dull as Monday or even worse at times. It usually happens that my un-slept sleep gets accumulated. The sleep debt goes on adding up on itself as well as its penalty which ultimately becomes so huge and takes toll on my physical health and mental state.

Fridays - the mornings would fill me up till the brim with hopes of treating myself with plenty of free time in the coming days. I love free time simply because I get to do the things that I like - thinking about myself, thinking about the girl I like, making out plans, day-dreaming, watching movies and chatting over Facebook, and of all to give myself good sleep.

On the other hand, a week is a week. If I said I did not like all of the weekdays, I would be a lie. I never dare to tell lies - that would be an irony. Only for this time, if I spoke honestly: among weekdays, I love Fridays.

As lunch would pass by and where only few hours I would have to stand the practical before I get home and give myself the Friday evening. Often, I would already have made up my plans for the weekend even before Friday. I would barely concentrate on the practical sessions at college and worse, I often try to bunk away the last hour. So, at this point, I admit that I beat of Fridays because I know he loves me a lot.

I have invariably, though with some exceptions, bunked a few minutes to hours of Friday afternoon classes. I remember when I was in class XII, I always ran away from the lab often a half-an-hour before the final bell rang. I would have done that for almost all of the classes except for a few of them when I felt intimidated when my girl-class-mates were caught bunking classes. Even more so, the teacher was a nasty one if we made him angry.

So, that makes all about Friday. Saturday morning is my best time of sleep. It is then I feel true happiness, a gross personal happiness - I would not have to whine at my alarm, I would not have to worry a bit but stretch myself all across the bed or put my head at the tail end of the bed and then continue sleeping. 

Other than sleep, Saturday-Sunday is a time for contemplation - trying hard to attain enlightenment. I am just trying to mock myself so that I remind the grey matter inside my brains to think. 

Nevertheless, all that I want to say is that I am always nostalgic when it is Sunday evening. I feel that the judge has sentenced me to life imprisonment. All my freedom would be snatched off, I would be given hours and hours of lectures, I would have to bury myself in the library where I would have to read and read and prepare for lectures. It would be the times when I would have no other job but Home-Faculty-Canteen-Library-Home, a dull routine. It would set up a vicious cycle that would almost make me die until Friday comes and saves me.