"I think you've done well so far - you haven't hurt any patients." (Yet) Those were the words of from our firm consultant.
The last several weeks have been an insight into my future workplace, a (mostly) functional hospital with (mostly) live patients. This doctor business is both "training" as well as "learning". It's a stark contrast to the last two years which was pure "learning". And the pas few weeks, I sure learnt a lot of things, including a few vaguely related to medicine, (I think).
First of all, all stereotypes were shattered on the first day as the hospital infection control policy personnifed by the ward nurse dictated that all white coats, ties, long sleeves and wrist watches are out. I was glad to oblige as I did not have to shell out more money to get a new one as the old one from last year (which was already too small then) looked more like a blouse than exuding any medical authority, (which of course would dissipate instantly as soon as any words escaped my mouth).
Secondly, I was in awe of the F1 army (house surgeons or house officers or PRHOs for those who happened to blink their eyes recently), particularly the one in my firm. To think that I would have to perform some sort of metamorphosis into this sleepless, super-efficient, smooth-talking, all-knowing, friendly doctor in da 'hood (ward) gave me some (!) inspiration. (I hope it was inspiration I felt.)
Thirdly, patients love doctors and how do they recognise these doctors? Stethoscopes! Who else wears stethoscopes? Ding ding ding! Medical students! With these all-areas (expensive!) access tokens we call stethoscopes, patients are taken unawares as they see us approaching (trying not to accost). Of course, we introduce ourselves as medical students, (There's a bit of GMC 'probity' for you) like parrots. But it's too late before they've fallen into our brilliant Patient Trap (C).
A lot of patients know what's wrong with them from the internet, family friends who happen to be related to friends who have friends in the medica profession, medical textbooks, etc. In fact, there are even a growing population of patients (as sampled by me) who have filled bookshelves with their volumes of casenotes. But few know what's making them better. They all take pills like MnMs - the colours are different but it's all medicine to them.
Patients are looking for help and support; more often than not they receive only the maintenance of their physical well-being. Maybe medical students can fill a gap.
Wednesday, 24 October 2007
Tuesday, 23 October 2007
Reasoning with God
Sitting silently, I tried to reason this out. I could not understand why. Discussions of the "case" flew across the room - whether she need an OGD, the aetiology, risk factors...but why? I could not understand why this young woman, barely settled in her thirties, who had seen a dietician a month ago will not live to celebrate this Christmas. There was no rhyme nor reason.
She was riddled with cancerous cells from the top down. She could not believe it - she did not want to. Neither could I.
Perhaps it was the find-the-most-interesting-case aspect of the grand round presentation which disgusted me or the gross unfairness of the situation or the fact that you cannot reason this out. Like a guarding Rottweiler which knows only to attack whether it be a friend or foe, the malignancy continued its insidious march throughout her body.
I hear a voice from the past saying "God loved her too much" ??! Why is that a reason? Then He surely must hate the millions who are living in the most abhorrent circumstances. Is that why He sends perpatrators of genocide once in a while?!
Another voice says "Maybe she had committed an atrocious act" ?!?! What?! What could be more atrocious than a slow death by cancer in your prime? Tell me what evil deed could she have committed that warranted such a fate?
"It's all for the good" What does that mean!? We can apply Mill's utilitarian principles to lives!? That one life is worth one-eights of 8 lives? Surely, those that knew her lost at least 8 lives by her death as they grieve over their daughter, mother, sister, wife, aunt, friend, niece or grand-daughter. OR that her death will restore some kind of balance?!
It is pointless arguing, because I end up gritting my teeth and angry at anyone listening. Where else can I vent my frustrations without involving others?
She was riddled with cancerous cells from the top down. She could not believe it - she did not want to. Neither could I.
Perhaps it was the find-the-most-interesting-case aspect of the grand round presentation which disgusted me or the gross unfairness of the situation or the fact that you cannot reason this out. Like a guarding Rottweiler which knows only to attack whether it be a friend or foe, the malignancy continued its insidious march throughout her body.
I hear a voice from the past saying "God loved her too much" ??! Why is that a reason? Then He surely must hate the millions who are living in the most abhorrent circumstances. Is that why He sends perpatrators of genocide once in a while?!
Another voice says "Maybe she had committed an atrocious act" ?!?! What?! What could be more atrocious than a slow death by cancer in your prime? Tell me what evil deed could she have committed that warranted such a fate?
"It's all for the good" What does that mean!? We can apply Mill's utilitarian principles to lives!? That one life is worth one-eights of 8 lives? Surely, those that knew her lost at least 8 lives by her death as they grieve over their daughter, mother, sister, wife, aunt, friend, niece or grand-daughter. OR that her death will restore some kind of balance?!
It is pointless arguing, because I end up gritting my teeth and angry at anyone listening. Where else can I vent my frustrations without involving others?
Sunday, 14 October 2007
Window Seat
The smile was like a glass of freshly squeezed lemon juice, chilled on a hot day out.
It was like the first drops of rain throwing up the dust of the hardened barren ground, bringing out the scent of the greenery.
It's like the warmth of your room as you walk in from the misty cold outside.
It was like the meal lovingly prepared by mum when you come home after a long time.
It's like the first flower you receive from your loved one.
It was the diametric opposite of the heart-wrenching sob of your child waking up to find his mother not at his side.
It was the smile of an infant as he was indulged by his mother and father, both parties unable to fully express their affection bursting from inside.
The best they could afford in the packed train was a 'snuggle triad' - the husband and wife leaning into each other, the baby held between his parents. As the crowd was jostled about in the mild chill of the train carriage, those around could not help be disarmed of their reserve when this bundle of joy waved without discrimination at anyone who did or did not catch his stare. There were those who were fortunate enough to be favoured with a smile as well - I'm sorry but I cannot bear to forego these moments behind the fourth wall in this blog - and I was lucky.
As the father improved his vocabulary...
"Goat."
Gaa
"Cow."
Goo
"Cat."
Gaa..?
And his mother showered him with loud kisses..
"Pmmwah"
"Pmmwah"
"Pmmwah"
...the baby snuggled perfectly at home shrouded in this blanket of love. (The sweetness of these moments puts this blog in danger of being diabetic, if not at least impaired tolerance.)
If words could tell me anything, I hope when I read this hence, years from now, I will be able to catch a glimpse of this moment somewhere within me.
(AngelDoc: I hope to complete your tag soon. My time in the hospital has been eye-opening if not experience-gaining, not to mention busy and enjoyable, oddly enough.)
It was like the first drops of rain throwing up the dust of the hardened barren ground, bringing out the scent of the greenery.
It's like the warmth of your room as you walk in from the misty cold outside.
It was like the meal lovingly prepared by mum when you come home after a long time.
It's like the first flower you receive from your loved one.
It was the diametric opposite of the heart-wrenching sob of your child waking up to find his mother not at his side.
It was the smile of an infant as he was indulged by his mother and father, both parties unable to fully express their affection bursting from inside.
The best they could afford in the packed train was a 'snuggle triad' - the husband and wife leaning into each other, the baby held between his parents. As the crowd was jostled about in the mild chill of the train carriage, those around could not help be disarmed of their reserve when this bundle of joy waved without discrimination at anyone who did or did not catch his stare. There were those who were fortunate enough to be favoured with a smile as well - I'm sorry but I cannot bear to forego these moments behind the fourth wall in this blog - and I was lucky.
As the father improved his vocabulary...
"Goat."
Gaa
"Cow."
Goo
"Cat."
Gaa..?
And his mother showered him with loud kisses..
"Pmmwah"
"Pmmwah"
"Pmmwah"
...the baby snuggled perfectly at home shrouded in this blanket of love. (The sweetness of these moments puts this blog in danger of being diabetic, if not at least impaired tolerance.)
If words could tell me anything, I hope when I read this hence, years from now, I will be able to catch a glimpse of this moment somewhere within me.
(AngelDoc: I hope to complete your tag soon. My time in the hospital has been eye-opening if not experience-gaining, not to mention busy and enjoyable, oddly enough.)
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