These are blogs I feel lucky to have found and, after the first post, compelled me to begin from the beginning and devour the archives. Each contains a link to one of their earliest posts and I’ve included the first thing that I read from each of them that made me want to read them all.
Battling a sinus infection. The notes were few from my standardized pelvic exam. The major good one was “Good pressure!” The bad one was “Must learn to avoid clitoris.”
If only they knew how many years of conditioning I’m working against.
Empathy training is the latest fad to hit medical school. Large quantities of your time will be wasted on this sort of thing. I didn’t dislike empathy training. In fact, because it is so non-rigorous and intellectually vaccuous it provided a pleasant distraction from the usual boring lectures. What’s not to like about sitting in a circle listening to some idiot drone on about the wonderful things you are going to do for your patients once you learn to relate to them? It was even more entertaining to listen to the small minority of students who take this kind of thing seriously and wax orgasmic about making a difference and touching the lives of patients.
Welcome to med school hell. This is a blog about my life as a medical student and the “truth” about medical training. I thought I’d get started with a little introduction.
I’m a senior medical student training in the US. I hate medical school with a burning passion like I have never before felt. In future posts, you’ll get to share what it’s like to be in my shoes on the wards. You’ll get to really experience what it’s like to be a medical student or a physician in training. You won’t hear any pansy-ass crap, basically because I don’t give a fuck. You’ll hear it like it is, and I promise I won’t hold anything back.
The administration hates me about as much as I hate the school that pays their salary. I tell it like it is, and they don’t like that. They really don’t know how to take it. I’m more C=MD and FYIGML than they have ever seen. I walk by the Dean and he thinks “that’s the guy who doesn’t give a fuck.” Yep, that’s me.
I can feel his blue eyes locking onto my own with a grip I’ve not experienced outside a battlefield. They are not the eyes of the desperate dying, they are the eyes of someone who knows exactly what he is doing and exactly what he is saying. I’ve seen that look in someone’s eyes before. Mr. Smith isn’t giving me advice, he’s giving me an order.