My so-called med life

To get what you want is a terrible thing
Those feelings of splendour a bittersweet sting
A backwards-ly step, and I feel the disdain
But give me it - give me it! - this wonderful pain

Alrighty...thoughts on med school I think are long overdue. I remember thinking about getting back to blogging (1) back in the summer, (2) after my Peru trip, to chronicle it, and more recently (3) during my first week of school, to capture my wonder and awe and shit.

So, med is going really well, mostly. I like the material for the most part (and I don't expect to love everything), the content is a hell of a lot better than consulting ever was, and some of the things I get to do -- case in point: cadaver -- are insanely adrenaline-filled and exciting.

But I think my lack of day to day excitement stems from two things which I can't seem to shake: the fact that I've changed a lot since graduating, and the fact that one of the reasons I (subconsciously) went back to for has simply blown up in my face.

The former is obvious -- I've changed, I've grown, I've become somewhat less patient and somewhat more cynical, the byproduct of which is a supremely efficient being. Not always great when you're talking medicine, but I haven't seen my cynicism affect my bedside manner yet, and my patients seem to like me. I'm just hoping that it doesn't trickle into other aspects of my life.

The latter is a little stupider, I must admit, and yet, entirely predictable, for anyone who knows me in the slightest.

One of the reasons I wanted to come back to school was that I had such an amazing time in engsci. I really did like just about everybody (and anyone I wasn't all that fond of, well, it just stopped there -- I wasn't fond of them, but it's not like I disliked anyone). Everyone got along. I loved going to class because it was always fun seeing people. Going out at night, watching the Super Bowl every year even though I hate football, heading to the pub, walking home from class, talking in the hallway after class, eating lunch -- I loved every minute of these things, and the social interaction of my amazing class made all stress and worry melt away. (The one notable exception of course was when I was rejected from med school -- while everyone was super supportive, I can't say that it really melted away my disappointment. But I digress).

So I think a part of me really thought that coming back to school would be much like this, but I've been sorely disappointed. I don't get along with the vast majority of my classmates (who are inane, juvenile, Type A-to-a-fault, high strung), and even though I've made a couple of good friends, and there are definitely many people who I like to talk and hang out with, it's not engsci. And I think a part of me was really searching for that.

It's sad when you realize that you'll never get back what it is you really want. It's like knowing you've already peaked, and it's all down from here. And I feel the effects sometimes: my searching for what I've lost.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still supremely happy that I'm here, and what's more, I feel very fortunate to have gotten into med school, and I'll continue to work hard and push my career.

It's just that every now and again, I sigh, and I turn around looking for iron rings -- and all I get are stethoscopes.