Procrastination central. It's here. I just made cupcakes (minus frosting - does that make them muffins? Or just naked?). And did all my ironing. And the washing up. Twice. And I spent the afternoon at my job, pretending that summarising medical records counts as revision, as opposed to the truth - I do know the baby vacc schedule inside out, but I learnt more about psychosexual dysfunction this afternoon than pharmacology. I think we all know which one is on the exam.
The stress is here. I just screamed at the landlady/flatmate for standing outside banging/shouting/whistling for half an hour (she's lost her keys - don't get me started on the fact that this means our flat is left unlocked if she leaves last). The stress is also in part due to a minor altercation with the boy. His housemates are moving out to buy a house together, so he's having house issues. Why does that sound familiar, huh? Oh, and I tripped over thin air/my own big feet and broke my scaphoid. Why does that sound familiar? Oh, maybe because I did that last-year-just-before-big-exams. *Grumble*. One day, one fine day, I will get through an exam season without a medical drama.
Tomorrow's lecture is cancelled, so more chances to sleep in/revise Tumour Pathology over breakfast.
13 days...
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
Knife, back, meet.
I still like Haem-Onc. Hehe. Guilty. Though I think it's more that I love clinical teaching, and I adore our consultants. And they have a fondness for grilling us on drugs, so yay! :D
Exams are a little too close. Eesh. And minor backstabby bitchiness is occuring. There are only a few past papers available, and these have been sourced from people in higher years. And certain lovely people have made tables of all the diseases we have to know, and the aetiology, pathogenesis, prognosis, epidemiology, treatment... There are also quiz sheets, fact cards, lists of common bacteria and antibiotics... The list goes on. Either way, as far as I can see the stuff is going in circles. I keep getting emails going "hey, didn't know if you had this, enjoy!". Strangely, when I mention x past paper to someone, they say "What x paper?" Even within our friendship group (strained, stretched, and amorphic), people are being skipped and deliberately left out of the loop.
I can say honestly that I've sent on everything I've been asked for to everyone who asked for it. I cannot say I've forwarded everything I have to everyone I know. I'm a bitch, I admit it.
Exams are a little too close. Eesh. And minor backstabby bitchiness is occuring. There are only a few past papers available, and these have been sourced from people in higher years. And certain lovely people have made tables of all the diseases we have to know, and the aetiology, pathogenesis, prognosis, epidemiology, treatment... There are also quiz sheets, fact cards, lists of common bacteria and antibiotics... The list goes on. Either way, as far as I can see the stuff is going in circles. I keep getting emails going "hey, didn't know if you had this, enjoy!". Strangely, when I mention x past paper to someone, they say "What x paper?" Even within our friendship group (strained, stretched, and amorphic), people are being skipped and deliberately left out of the loop.
I can say honestly that I've sent on everything I've been asked for to everyone who asked for it. I cannot say I've forwarded everything I have to everyone I know. I'm a bitch, I admit it.
Thursday, 14 January 2010
Wanted: companion for cardboard box
Bugger.
Just as I thought things were getting a little teeny weeny bit sorted. My new job is going great, I have an out-patients appointment soon to finally figure out the breathing issues, I actually have money in the bank, all persons in the flat are communicating with one another, uni is reasonable, potential flatmate for next year was almost confirmed... Yeh, scrap that last one. Potential flatmate, or Ry, as we'll call him, has just blogged about his future housing options when his current lease expires. Turns out I am not his only option, and that I am being juggled while he contemplates which of his options is safer.
It's "probably a good idea, has a fair chance of working" vs "probably not a good idea, could go very well or very badly". Given my run of luck (and some other factors), I'd lay good money that I'm option 2.
I'm flummoxed as to who No1 is. All I have to go on is that it's "another medical student". Textathon is currently ensuing to come up with anyone on our course who has no fixed living arrangement and is (in)sane enough to consider living with Ry.
Just as I thought things were getting a little teeny weeny bit sorted. My new job is going great, I have an out-patients appointment soon to finally figure out the breathing issues, I actually have money in the bank, all persons in the flat are communicating with one another, uni is reasonable, potential flatmate for next year was almost confirmed... Yeh, scrap that last one. Potential flatmate, or Ry, as we'll call him, has just blogged about his future housing options when his current lease expires. Turns out I am not his only option, and that I am being juggled while he contemplates which of his options is safer.
It's "probably a good idea, has a fair chance of working" vs "probably not a good idea, could go very well or very badly". Given my run of luck (and some other factors), I'd lay good money that I'm option 2.
I'm flummoxed as to who No1 is. All I have to go on is that it's "another medical student". Textathon is currently ensuing to come up with anyone on our course who has no fixed living arrangement and is (in)sane enough to consider living with Ry.
Saturday, 9 January 2010
New Year Resolution? Stay in 09. In bed.
Supposedly, snow permitting, I will be trudging back to University on Monday. I say this with immense joy in my bouyant heart.
Not.
You see, holidays were pretty average. Not dire, not exciting, just average. Until I received a lovely email (via Facebook - classy) informing me that I am to move out before third year starts. There's been somewhat of a personality clash this year between myself and one of my two flatmates. Had we been living in a normal flat, we'd have just grinned and beared it. However. The flat we reside in is owned by the flatmate. Therefore, in the case of us being unable to live with each other, the short straw is mine. Always mine.
So, because we "haven't really got on as well this year as we did last year", I'm being kicked out. Typically, I'm told this just after the deadline for commercial halls closes. The only rooms left are £115 a week. Which I most definitely cannot afford.
I really did not think I would be perusing the letting agent's websites again after only such a short period of time. What makes it suck worse? That my current rent is the outer limit of what I can afford, and was subsidised by the fact that the flat is 'friend'-owned. Next year is gonna involve a lot more cash, more loans, more overdrafts, and more debt. Thanks, richkid.
Not.
You see, holidays were pretty average. Not dire, not exciting, just average. Until I received a lovely email (via Facebook - classy) informing me that I am to move out before third year starts. There's been somewhat of a personality clash this year between myself and one of my two flatmates. Had we been living in a normal flat, we'd have just grinned and beared it. However. The flat we reside in is owned by the flatmate. Therefore, in the case of us being unable to live with each other, the short straw is mine. Always mine.
So, because we "haven't really got on as well this year as we did last year", I'm being kicked out. Typically, I'm told this just after the deadline for commercial halls closes. The only rooms left are £115 a week. Which I most definitely cannot afford.
I really did not think I would be perusing the letting agent's websites again after only such a short period of time. What makes it suck worse? That my current rent is the outer limit of what I can afford, and was subsidised by the fact that the flat is 'friend'-owned. Next year is gonna involve a lot more cash, more loans, more overdrafts, and more debt. Thanks, richkid.
Sunday, 20 December 2009
On surgical nutcases (and secret gas love)
I could not be more relieved that 2009 (academically, at least) is over. This term has been the hardest I've ever dealt with - not in academic content, but in emotional crapola. However, the two days immediately following the end of term made up for that (partially - family incidents aside).
20 hours of Ortho! It was my reward for surviving the term, and after the battle with Dr Granny, I needed it, and I oh-so-earned it. And it was immense.
7 cases
3 assists
1 solo washout & fragment removal (OH YESH!)
1 attempted intubation
1 failed intubation
17 minutes of bagging V-Tach guy
7 patients still alive when I left...
And Isecretlywanttobeananaesthetist - shush! Mainly cos I'm not 'attached' to a dept when I'm in theatres - I'm there on my day off, for fun, for extra experience. So I tend to wander into the gas room pre-op and the gas men (or mostly, darling ladies) adopt me, take me under their hugely knowledgable wings, and teach me. Last time, I got my first real cannulation and intubation, not to mention various induction stuff. This time, I got a ton of ECG teaching (super-great timing!), a masterclass in facemask seals, teaching on the treatment of V-tach, talked through central line insertions, epidurals, intubation (again)... I <3 Anaesthetists. Maybe I could certify in Ortho & Anaes...
Crazy repeated convo's everytime I met someone new (or not new - some of the surgeons remembered me!) - "So you're 4th year?"
"No, second."
"So why are you here?"
"It's the Christmas holidays"
"So why are you here?!"
"Um... I wanna be an Orthopod..?"
Clearly, volunteering to come in on a) your day off, b) a day when we are snowed in, and c) the morning after the Christmas party, makes you a nutcase. I can live with that - I got to touch the talus from inside a leg!
But now, I am off to marvel at sexy cars and contemplate which one my first surgical pay packet (oh, 6 years time, move faster!) will go towards....
20 hours of Ortho! It was my reward for surviving the term, and after the battle with Dr Granny, I needed it, and I oh-so-earned it. And it was immense.
7 cases
3 assists
1 solo washout & fragment removal (OH YESH!)
1 attempted intubation
1 failed intubation
17 minutes of bagging V-Tach guy
7 patients still alive when I left...
And Isecretlywanttobeananaesthetist - shush! Mainly cos I'm not 'attached' to a dept when I'm in theatres - I'm there on my day off, for fun, for extra experience. So I tend to wander into the gas room pre-op and the gas men (or mostly, darling ladies) adopt me, take me under their hugely knowledgable wings, and teach me. Last time, I got my first real cannulation and intubation, not to mention various induction stuff. This time, I got a ton of ECG teaching (super-great timing!), a masterclass in facemask seals, teaching on the treatment of V-tach, talked through central line insertions, epidurals, intubation (again)... I <3 Anaesthetists. Maybe I could certify in Ortho & Anaes...
Crazy repeated convo's everytime I met someone new (or not new - some of the surgeons remembered me!) - "So you're 4th year?"
"No, second."
"So why are you here?"
"It's the Christmas holidays"
"So why are you here?!"
"Um... I wanna be an Orthopod..?"
Clearly, volunteering to come in on a) your day off, b) a day when we are snowed in, and c) the morning after the Christmas party, makes you a nutcase. I can live with that - I got to touch the talus from inside a leg!
But now, I am off to marvel at sexy cars and contemplate which one my first surgical pay packet (oh, 6 years time, move faster!) will go towards....
Thursday, 10 December 2009
Not a black dreamer.
I could kill. I could also hug.
Homicidal tendencies are due to a big error with our electricity bill, making us liable for nearly £200 worth of power. I wish "I'll cut off the direct debit" held as much weight as their "we'll cut off the power" threat.
In other news, my two days in trauma theatres next week are confirmed. EEEEEEEE!!!!! Now the major problem will be keeping it a secret! If any other second years find out that theatre exposure is possible, my lovely reward for surviving the term will be ruined.
Other factors that threaten to ruin the end of term are impending bankaccountemptinessdoom, all of my friends attending a christmas dinner I am not invited to, and attempting to batter my head of year with a small child. Or other weapon of choice.
An assessed clerking was handed in several weeks ago. It was returned yesterday. I got a score of around 50%. Needless to say, I am not ecstatic about this. I'm boiling over with fury at an inept system which punishes the honest and rewards the liars. Certain people (and I can name at least four, so far) did not clerk a single actual patient, yet handed in a full (fictional) clerking and receieved almost perfect marks. One of my friends was marked down for saying he examined the olfactory nerve in his cranial nerve exam. The markers don't believe people could have the ingenuity to bring an orange to ward teaching for this purpose. I was honest about the fact that I didn't examine certain pulses (didn't want to undress patient), reflexes (patient refused) and vibration & pain sensations (there are no tuning forks on the ID ward, nor Neurotips - also, I find it unnecessary to subject the patient to pain, however mild, for a formative assessment). It was also commented on that I did not perform fundoscopy. We've never been taught fundoscopy, and I wouldn't have a clue which side of an opthalmoscope I or the patient should be on. The patient may have learnt plenty about my retinas, but I didn't do it.
This is war. My tutor today told me to "stop trying to fight the system, because you will end up fighting yourself". Surely if it's me vs me, that's a win-win situtation? I know what he means, and I know that the knobs who lie now will lose out later, but the fact remains that... that... yeh, it's not fair. I should get over it.
Homicidal tendencies are due to a big error with our electricity bill, making us liable for nearly £200 worth of power. I wish "I'll cut off the direct debit" held as much weight as their "we'll cut off the power" threat.
In other news, my two days in trauma theatres next week are confirmed. EEEEEEEE!!!!! Now the major problem will be keeping it a secret! If any other second years find out that theatre exposure is possible, my lovely reward for surviving the term will be ruined.
Other factors that threaten to ruin the end of term are impending bankaccountemptinessdoom, all of my friends attending a christmas dinner I am not invited to, and attempting to batter my head of year with a small child. Or other weapon of choice.
An assessed clerking was handed in several weeks ago. It was returned yesterday. I got a score of around 50%. Needless to say, I am not ecstatic about this. I'm boiling over with fury at an inept system which punishes the honest and rewards the liars. Certain people (and I can name at least four, so far) did not clerk a single actual patient, yet handed in a full (fictional) clerking and receieved almost perfect marks. One of my friends was marked down for saying he examined the olfactory nerve in his cranial nerve exam. The markers don't believe people could have the ingenuity to bring an orange to ward teaching for this purpose. I was honest about the fact that I didn't examine certain pulses (didn't want to undress patient), reflexes (patient refused) and vibration & pain sensations (there are no tuning forks on the ID ward, nor Neurotips - also, I find it unnecessary to subject the patient to pain, however mild, for a formative assessment). It was also commented on that I did not perform fundoscopy. We've never been taught fundoscopy, and I wouldn't have a clue which side of an opthalmoscope I or the patient should be on. The patient may have learnt plenty about my retinas, but I didn't do it.
This is war. My tutor today told me to "stop trying to fight the system, because you will end up fighting yourself". Surely if it's me vs me, that's a win-win situtation? I know what he means, and I know that the knobs who lie now will lose out later, but the fact remains that... that... yeh, it's not fair. I should get over it.
Saturday, 5 December 2009
Tweeeet.
I was supposed to finish the GI system today. I'm still 2 lectures off. Bah!
I was supposed to wrap the Christmas presents tonight. They're all sat on my bed. Unwrapped.
I was supposed to not buy any more alcohol til at least next week. I have a new bottle of wine in my fridge. Now half empty. Bonus - I did not get ID'd for it. Antibonus - I'm supposed to be over 25 for that to happen. Shit. Boyf suggested that I have gained wrinkles from excessive drinking.
Boyfriend may have said "We shall see" and then "You may get lucky" when I said that I didn't think we would get married in the next decade (his idea, not mine). Am 80% happy and 20% scared shitless. Do not want to plan a wedding in the next five years.
Flatmate has gone out with friend (amid much giggling) so I have the flat to myself. Myself and Sauvignon Blanc are bonding. We are nearly best friends already.
I am out of Oreo's. This is a national disaster.
I am currently discussing my black cloud treatment with a relative stranger, in full internet view of many medics I know in real life. This is my confession.
I was supposed to wrap the Christmas presents tonight. They're all sat on my bed. Unwrapped.
I was supposed to not buy any more alcohol til at least next week. I have a new bottle of wine in my fridge. Now half empty. Bonus - I did not get ID'd for it. Antibonus - I'm supposed to be over 25 for that to happen. Shit. Boyf suggested that I have gained wrinkles from excessive drinking.
Boyfriend may have said "We shall see" and then "You may get lucky" when I said that I didn't think we would get married in the next decade (his idea, not mine). Am 80% happy and 20% scared shitless. Do not want to plan a wedding in the next five years.
Flatmate has gone out with friend (amid much giggling) so I have the flat to myself. Myself and Sauvignon Blanc are bonding. We are nearly best friends already.
I am out of Oreo's. This is a national disaster.
I am currently discussing my black cloud treatment with a relative stranger, in full internet view of many medics I know in real life. This is my confession.
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