We are writing again in about a week’s time. The clinical section of the Resp module. It’s bound to be torture.
So, naturally, we should be studying. It sounds sad* but it really is all we can do to keep from ending up like our former seniors who are now our classmates because they underestimated this module. Besides, our pre-clinical test marks only come up the day we write the clinical one, so it’s not like we can rest on our laurels in the hope that we did well in that one.
I’m getting to the point of this post, I promise.
So we’re all discussing our weekend plans during a break in yesterday’s eight-to-five schedule, when a friend of mine asks if we’re going to the main campus festival. Because we’re the medical faculty, we’re basically an island. But every now and then, main campus does something really cool and we actually get to be involved. Last night was one of those times, as all the first years of every faculty would be putting up little street shows–and by little, I mean big–to entertain their stressed-out seniors.
Last week, the plan was that we’d be going. But we weren’t snowed under with days and days of backlog that needed to be covered, fast. So now our group decided that maybe going out wouldn’t be such a great idea. We said as much. Bad idea.
One of my friends basically had a meltdown about how this course is, I quote, “RUINING MY LIFE!”
Look, I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t do nearly as much as I used to. Before medschool, I was queen of the extracurricular. A capella groups, instrumental bands, drama club, poetry club, senoir council, commitees and sub-committees, karate, a little presenting for the college’s campus TV show–name it, and I probably did it.*
Now? I study. I play a little piano when I have the time, write a song here and there, I’m on a couple of committees in my res and on campus, but I’m really not all that heavily involved in anything that isn’t absolutely necessary and time-skinny.
I just don’t have the time in this course. I’ve come to peace with that. I’ve even embraced it. Sure, I could skimp on the studying and still just barely make it. But I love this course. I’m a dork, darnit. And I actually want to know this stuff so that there’s a chance that I”ll actually be good at this stuff. I’m willing to sacrifice a little to become an at least decent doctor.
If this course were ruining my life, I would quit.
Instead, I like to think it’s enriching it.
Wishful thinking? Perhaps. But it sure as anything let’s me sleep peacefully at night.*