First Year Almost Over

April 20, 2009

My first year in medical school is nearly over, and it has flown by.  The entries here can’t even begin to describe all the new experiences and thinking I have encountered this year.

By now, I’ve gotten used to almost everything.  I’m not quite so worried about failure, and I’m starting to enjoy the rhythm of the same people and classes that once felt so overwhelming.  There have even been some big pleasures this year, such as getting to know my colleagues, working alongside great physicians and meeting patients that make me smile.

In conversations with my peers, we all question if we actually learned enough this year to qualify us to be 25% finished with our M.D. degree.  As I bounce around studying from one exam to the next, I often ponder about how much knowledge is really learned (as opposed to memorized and soon forgotten).

None of our exams are cumulative, although one could argue that certain concepts build upon one another.  According to one of my classmates who has a brother graduating this year from medical school, even he is wondering whether he knows enough.

My classmates and I are all terrified by the responsibility of being a doctor, especially as we discover how much there is to know about people’s bodies and diseases.  So, did we really learn enough this year?  I’m not sure.

There is no doubt that I have certainly learned a lot.  I can perform physical exams (not perfectly, but at least I know what I should do).  I have learned enough basic medical terminology that I can mostly decipher the technical jargon of journal articles and hospital reports.  I know all the major bones and pathways in the body, and have a basic understanding how they work (although please don’t ask me to remember the details).

Perhaps most importantly, I’ve conquered a lot of my discomforting feelings.  Those feeling that haunt everyone in medicine, such as whether we really deserve to be doctors and how humbling this process can be.

So, that means I’m less nervous when I put on my white coat and walk through the hospital.  I don’t feel awkward to be left alone with a patient.  I can speak up more easily in class and in front of doctors.  I don’t squint my eyes when the lecturers show a slide of a gangrenous leg or stab wound.  And, I can hammer through the bones of my cadaver with ease (whereas at first I didn’t even like hearing the sound).

Now, of course, I start to feel comfortable as the semester is ending!   We have three more weeks, and six exams.  This week I will begin my final exams with Pathology and Growth and Development. Anatomy will be my last exam on May 15.

Then, I will have the last real summer vacation of my foreseeable future.  Ben and I have planned a trip to Europe to celebrate our wedding anniversary, and then I will head off to volunteer with a medical program in the Dominican Republic.  Summer does not seem far away anymore, and my first year starts to feel like an obstacle I am glad to be nearly past.

 


Artistic Memories from Anatomy

April 16, 2009

Thanks my mother-in-law (also an artist and teacher), who helped me create a set of four encaustic (hot wax) artworks based on memories from human anatomy class.    These images are shared below, although they are much better envisioned in 3-D.

Clockwise from Top Left: Stomach, Muscle, Brain and Heart.  Encaustic with class notes, twigs, wall compound, glitter and oil paint.


Cadaver: A Poem

April 15, 2009
It was not as scary as we had imagined,
when we opened the metal crypt
that cradled our body- our cadaver.
The first thing I noticed were bright pink nails.
Without stories, clothing, hair, nor jewelry,
the meager remains of a lifetime
were painted on her fingers.
-
Nail polish, tattoos, or signs of treatments,
age and a brief cause of death—
these facts were surprisingly enough
to allow us this modern rite of passage.
So we claimed this body as our teacher,
probed its layers and examined its depths
an extraordinary and singular journey.
-
We were all fearful surgeon-infants,
stumbling in our movements,
not wanting to cut too deeply or tear.
Yet our body waited day by day,
asymmetrically strewn in plastic case,
with head in a translucent bag.
As we got to know this person.
-
We learned more about this body
than any other we will ever know.
Deep images of this person continue
to churn in our minds.
These pictures make us wonder
about other bodies,
especially our own.
-
The various textures on a canvas,
heart muscles like tree branches
overlapping in a dense forest.
Fibrous white connective tissue
spuming sponginess of lungs,
red fading into luminescent tendons,
sweeping in symphony to the bones.
-
We were filled with desire,
to examine new paths, to see everything,
visiting an untouched wilderness,
with curious formations, trails,
a more interesting variation
than any we had seen or imagined.
Our own medical odyssey of learning and maturation.
-
Sometimes I took a moment to recognize
we were a room full of humans
dissecting our own species
amidst automatic lights and dispensers,
loud conversations, laughter and electric saws,
shrouded in sharp scent—
indecipherable.
-
Yet, with my group and cadaver
our work was lucid.
This master guide of differentiation,
the inside of the human body in death,
had brought me closer to our life force—
the force that once animated this person, and drives us all,
with renewing potential.
-EBB

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