Packing for India

As I wash and iron the collected mess of the last 3 weeks, and try to fit 100 litres of luggage into a 45 litre backpack, I can afford a few minutes to briefly run through all that happened in the closing days of the exam season.
Trying to put the ambiguity of the written exams behind us, we crammed as hard as possible for the practical exams a week later, in which we would have to rotate through 8 stations which would each last 10 minutes. Typical examples of a station topic would be to examine a basic bodily system, to take a history, or to do a basic procedure.
So, naturally, the revision centred around the most common topics that we'd be working on all year. The cardiovascular, respiratory and gastrointestinal systems, the specific medical history, and a few other common subjects.
Needless to say, the School of Medicine once again saw fit to omit all these from the exam, and instead included topics like Down's Syndrome, alcoholism, and an examination of the legs.
Unfortunately for them, we've all been on this course far too long to expect them to be anything other than grossly unfair with the questions, and had revised broadly enough to get through. My stethoscope was not used once.
I decided to dull the pain of the waiting for results by drinking and playing poker until 9am the night before the day they were due to be posted, even finishing about £50 up if my distinctly hazy memory has held firm.
After 2 hours sleep, fully clothed and drooling, I staggered with my friend down the road to the closest School of Medicine office to look at the results on the wall. Of course, I checked the "failed" list first, and once I'm weaved my bleary eyes down that one, with no sign of my identification number, I checked it again to make sure. Then I gradually worked my way down the remaining 200 names in the "passed" list, eventually finding my own number, next to two Bs and a C. I checked again, then again, just to double check that my eyes hadn't wandered down or up instead of horizontally. But it was correct. Even so, I still went back at 7pm to recheck.
I've got a funny feeling that the results were moderated up again this year, because the written exam question came totally out of left field and the OSCEs weren't exactly routine either. But even if they had been, my BBC grade couldn't have been a fail to start with.
So here I am, with a load of clothes on the floor, a pile of Loperamide tablets, and a little bit of nervous energy.
Because, at long last, I am a fourth year.

It's a Miracle!

Who knows how, but I've actually managed to pass the bloody exams!
I have to spend some taking care of my preparations for my trip to India in a weeks, but soon I'll be back on with a full account of the business that's been going on around here.
I hope everyone in my year that reads this did well too.
Back on soon!

The Exams : A Review

Right, for my own record and for your curiosity, here's how the questions panned out today.

In the morning, we had a 2 hour long essay paper which involved 3 questions, which were further split into subsections. The first was on the menstrual cycle and the associated hormones, which I dealt with well, apart from the later sections in which everybody apparently did badly. I'd like to think I got at least a D overall here.

The second subject was renal failure. I answered a small sub question confidently enough, but the bulk of the marks were lost to nervous rambling about things which may or may not have been relevant. Given a day to think through the answers, I would've been okay, but the time restraints were extremely bad.

The final question was the compulsory bastard, this year on MRSA. It was safe to say that my classmates knew nothing about his from the books, and everything we wrote down was either common sense, or dug out from a distant, faded and dusty memory room of A Levels and first year lectures.

On one hand, I'd like to think that the combined average of poor performance of my peers and my own haphazard effort will combine to form a D grade, but wishful thinking is not unknown to me. An E is less unlikely than partially expected.

This leads me to my hopeful saviour, the afternoon short-answer paper. God knows I'm better when the answer is only one word, and if you don't know it, it costs you one mark at the most. There were many easy questions, for example the stuff on thyroid was just like taking candy from a baby, but the harder questions were bloody awful. Presented with a photo of a slice of brain, we had to define the abnormalities and name the area involved. To me, to most of us, it just looked like...brain. Luckily though, for the most part, it was a solid exam and I expect to get no worse than a C for it.
Which begs the final and most important question....is the solidity of the afternoon paper going to make up for the flimsiness of the morning paper? Only time will tell.

A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words

With barely two days until the exam, I thought I'd try to demonstrate how I'm feeling with the help of a visual aid.

On the other hand, you never know, I might pass. And Elvis might crash his spaceship into the Loch Ness Monster.

The Final Lap

With 6 days until the first and hardest exam of a total of three, it's about time we all dug deep inside of ourselves to try and find that impossible sixth gear which lets us work for ten continuous hours when we already have no fuel left in the tank. Like Roger Bannister without the flailing limbs and suggestively tight shorts, the idea is to grit your teeth, give it all you have and throw yourself over the finishing line with as little regret of wasted energy as possible.

For me, as is the case for nearly all of us, this isn't easy because with 5 consecutive years of exams already behind us, it's not exactly a novelty. And my own personal revision technique, involving re-reading the same text over and over again on a repeating schedule of topics doesn't really make me want to jump for joy.

The perfect balance between overconfident laziness and suicidal desperation is hard to achieve, let alone maintain, so it's time to fasten your seat belt as I try to hold on to my sanity, racing towards the exams, at last.

Dumbing Down

On one hand, I really don't mind that exams are easier now than they've previously been. It's hardly selfish to appreciate the fact that getting through University doesn't require as much work today than it might have done in the 80's, or before. But it doesn't half make me feel inferior. Granted, I may look rather stupid if I do still manage to fail my exams, which is not an entirely obscene proposal, but in the likely case of my actual passing them, I'll still be regarding myself as at least slightly second-rate in comparison to foreign and previous doctors.
My suspicions were confirmed today when me and a friend rummaged through the past exam papers in the hospital library and almost had simultaneous heart attacks when we saw what kind of questions medical students in our position had to answer 30 years ago. The papers were multiple choice, and they had to choose between an endless list of almost identical answers, referring to chemicals, anatomy and pharmacology with which I am wholly unfamiliar. And it was negatively marked, which meant that not only could they not guess, but any carelessness or imprecision and a perfectly well earned point would get struck off.
In the most recent past papers, we get asked to name 5 factors that might contribute to heart disease. Let's ask any bright 8 year old- smoking, drinking, being fat...and you have more than 50% already, which is enough to pass.
Bloody hell, I hope I haven't jinxed this.