closure

This time tomorrow, I will be finished with medical school.

Tomorrow morning, I will get up and go to an unfamiliar hospital, where I will meet a brand-new patient for an hour. I will then take this patient's history and examination findings and present them to some senior doctors. Then they grill me.

It's a scary process, especially because it doesn't really rely on your ability to cram, but rather, your ability to ask the right questions. Plus, there's usually a surgeon examiner. They get bored by purely medical conditions, so will ask you questions about seemingly unrelated topics. eg: "You said the patient has atrial fibrillation. If you were to cut out his appendix, what precautions would you take?"

In any case, I think now would be a good time to take a bow. I have been blogging my med school experience for almost 5 years now and this seems like a fitting time to stop.

I've loved being able to make my life seem more glamorous, more dramatic, less painful, funnier and generally larger than it really is. I have also really loved getting people's comments and support from all over. Thank you, you definitely made me feel less alone, even when I was in the god-forsaken locations of Kyneton and Warrnambool (back next year for 3 months!) I also love being in Canada and hearing people say, "Oh, I read about your time in Geelong, I bought some wine from there..."

Special thanks to Ian, Dan and Kerria for all the comments. Also to the crew at VPL, I love that my Mom finds out about my life from you. To the Toronto team: Paul & Aysha and Corey. To my persistent mystery readers at Canwest Edmonton & Toronto. To my lovely girls at "University of Melbourne RCS" and to the Wheeler's Hill branch. To the lawyer at TJC, and to the Winnipeg hospital. And most of all, most importantly, to my Mum & Dad. Dad, thank you for learning how to use Youtube and comments functions and thank you both for supporting me every ridiculous step of the way.

Next year, interning. After that, who knows?
I rocked the MCCEE, so I've got options open.

I'll keep the blog up until December 31st. Good night and good luck.

most of the time...

People who know me might say that I can be a little...stubborn. Irrational. Hot-tempered. Megalo-maniacal. Especially people who work with me on the Graduation Dinner Committee.

This year, I took on the role of Treasurer. I am notoriously bad at math but figured that modern technology could assist me in setting out a budget, punching in numbers and knowing how much we'd owe. Right? Sigh...There is a discrepancy. And it's my fault.

To make matters worse, I've been running the committee like a gulag; getting angry at people for shirking, slacking or generally being human. Berating people for having priorities other than The Dinner (like, say, exams). Generally, letting my minimal power absolutely go to my head. O, the shame.

As my lovely Cuz reminded me, you can't classify people as all bad or all good. So I'm not all bad. But right now, the bad is definitely in the majority.

I'd like a distraction, but I can't bring myself to study. Perhaps I'll make a list of all the people I've been mean to and write them heartfelt (if tardy) apologies. Alternately, I could have an iced coffee.

you can call me Al...

...ahem. Apologies for the melodrama yesterday.

All is well. Exam is done. I'm wearing a sun dress. Tomorrow is beach day.

I repeat. All is well.

2 to go.

I've been taking exams for a long time. Every 6 months for the last ten years, give or take. And I've seen a range of examiner responses.

There's the pleasantly surprised, "Huh. I didn't think this one would know that."

The disdainful, "Interesting theory. Did it come from Wikipedia?"

The sadistic, "Dammit! I don't like her face, how can I trip her up?"

The exhausted, "O who cares, I'll give everyone 75% if they let me leave."

Today, a new expression. I'm pretty sure I'll see it when I close my eyes tonight.

"Good lord. How did a shaved monkey get this far in the medical program?"

Not good.

I came home, drank 1750 calories of melted icecream, and I'm now spiralling into the well of shame, despair and regret. I'm seriously considering selling myself as an over-educated mail-order bride (check e-bay!).

And I have to do this again tomorrow morning! Boo-urns. Boo-urns.

Sigh.

salt

I'm living in a Nevil Shute novel. Harsh sunlight is bleaching the streets, dust coats my swollen feet and all conversation has been reduced to monosyllabic grunts. My housemates are coping well enough, but I sleep on our living room floor to escape heat-induced hallucinatory nightmares. This afternoon, I found myself sensually drizzling water on my salt-encrusted limbs, while a hot breeze disturbed the loose curls around my forehead. This has to stop.

Of course, if Desmond Morris is right, this should all be wonderful. The heat induces flush, sweat is full of pheromones, everyone is lean and glistening and unable to work. In short, it should be sexytime. Alas, my Canadian genes are letting me down; while my colleagues frolic and press flesh in sunny beer gardens, the thought of proximity makes my skin crawl. I want only to be left alone, preferably in a bathtub full of ice.

It's lucky I've passed my Canadian exam. Now I have the option to apply to write the next exam that may or may not give me access to training programs that...bah. Perhaps the heat isn't so bad.

Perhaps I should sell a kidney on the black market.