During revision and in the run up to exams I see exponentially less and less of anyone and eventually become a hibernating hermit hedgehog. It becomes awkward to continually turn down invitations to go out but it would be “frivolous” to chuck my books in the air whenever such an opportunity arises. Petrified of the consequences, I make my excuses.
The friends I do see are fellow classmates at the hospital. “What is the dosage of that drug again? Should the patient hold in inspiration or expiration when listening to a certain heart valve? Which cranial nerves are we likely to be examined on? This is what we discuss as we dash between clinics and bedside teaching sessions and everyone else except me seems to know all the answers. Dare I say it – I’m turning into an old bore, like really old bore.
I’m unsure if there is less time because of medical school or because there are more “chores” to do as we get older but unfortunately whatever the case, I’ve generally seen less family and friends since starting medical school. In the meantime, they’re getting new jobs, buying houses, giving birth or visiting exciting places around the world – whilst I admire from a Facebook distance.
So my dear family and friends, I’m sorry I sometimes can’t join you and I hope you are having a great time. I’m sorry for my enthusiasm when I recount what I see in surgery and clinics and not talking about anything else (mainly because I haven’t done anything else worth talking about); for recalling obscure and gruesome medical facts that won’t affect you; for complaining about the speed with which I hurtle towards exams and for worrying about how much I feel I still don’t know.
I’ll be back to normal shortly, I just have to get through this medical degree…