I just want to say

- that I can't believe I thought I was a serious student in undergraduate.  It's laughable now.  Studying for big tests two nights before?  Only carrying one notebook at a time in a cute little blue handbag?  Sleeping in a regular pattern?  Taking multiple days off at a time?  What a silly thing I was.  So young, so young.

Explanation or excuse? Only God knows.

Today I am taking a mental health day.

Let me begin with yesterday.  After morning classes, I went home for lunch.  The plan was to have a quick lunch with Matt and then do some work before heading to my ( at times insanely useless) Clinical Skilz lab, where we would be "learning" about dermatology by staring at each other's arms.  On my way into my apartment, I tripped up a few stairs and totally wiped out.  Everything went flying.  I hurt my knee surprisingly badly considering I just tripped, and ruined a pair of jeans.  And that was it.  I limped upstairs, cleaned my knee, and went to bed instead of CS.  I just couldn't take it.  I did do some work later in the evening but the thought of going to class was somehow too much.

This morning I woke up on time for my classes; I then lay in bed for ten minutes alternately yelling at myself to get up and feeling totally overwhelmed by even the thought of putting bandages on my leg and figuring out what clothes to wear, let alone having to actually attend class.  All of my dreams had involved me either screaming or crying.  I made it into the bathroom where I stared at myself for a few minutes... and then I returned to bed, curled into a little ball, and retreated guiltily back into sleep.  When I woke up a couple of hours ago, I realised I'd missed all of my morning classes but still technically had neuroanatomy lab and Spanish this afternoon and evening, respectively.  Visualising actually being there literally sent me into fits of tears.  Clearly I am feeling a bit off balance, as hyperventilation and a strong desire to flee are usually the strongest reactions I have to gunners and/ or neuro lab.

And so your heroine finds herself at home, still in her pajamas, potentially without plans to do any work today at all.  There are two ways to think about this.

One (The Parent's Explanation): apparently I am exhausted in some measure, and that part of me decided it was time to take a break.  It is healthy and good that I am listening to it, and although I may have to play catch-up a bit, it will have been worth it for the recharge that I get.  And let's be honest, medical school consists solely of playing catch-up anyway, so it's not like my life will be drastically different in that regard.  I'll just be less likely to have a public breakdown.

Two (The Gunner's Explanation): part of med school is being exhausted in every way and learning to push through it.  It is irresponsible and quite frankly weak of me to have to take so much time off, especially after I didn't work that hard over the weekend.  Maybe I just don't want to work, and so I am taking any excuse available to shirk.  Maybe I just can't hack it.

Which is more valid?  [shrug]  I'm not sure, but the first one certainly is more comfortable, isn't it?  No one wants to think of oneself as a slacker, not in an arena like this.  And it hurts to think of oneself as inadequate.

But I was thinking further about this this morning, talking to my mum and Matt, and I realised: I have always known I was only above average.  Let me explain.  I am more intelligent than many people; this is just a gift that God gave me, like he gave others artistic or physical ability.  But I am definitely not a genius.  I fall in the 'gifted' category, which means among the entire population I am of above average intelligence, but among smart people I am basically average.

This is finally playing out in school; I have reached a level where only people roughly as intelligent as I am are around me, and I am now almost exactly in the middle of the pack.  Hard work counts for a lot when you are in the middle of the pack (vs. being absolutely brilliant, in which case hard work counts for much less - don't disagree with me, I have also seen this play out in my school.  Outliers are outliers for a reason), and I am only willing to sacrifice so much.

So.  I am smart but not smart enough to be the best.  I am willing to work but possibly not hard enough to be the best. Is this not inadequacy?

Thus the second argument is also true - in a sense.  If high levels of accomplishment and being tough were really what I am aiming for, then I would have dragged my sad self to school today because not doing so would be slacking.  But more and more I am realising the depth to which those aren't my goals.  Enjoying life as much as possible without totally sacrificing my career - you know, balance - that is my true goal.  My whole life I have surrounded myself with gunners because they push me, and my whole life I have refused (most of the time) to participate in the madness of being hardcore fully and felt guilty about it.  Now I am in a place that requires 100% daily and I am finally giving it... most of the time.  Maybe I should stop being ashamed of those exceptions.  Maybe.

I'm not sure if that was worth it.

Well, I survived the neuro exam.  Even for medical school, the study period for that test was stressful and bizarre.  I honestly don't think I have studied that hard for any test ever save the MCAT - you know, the test that got me in this place.  Let me take a moment and clarify the term "studying hard."  I mean that every single day for the last two weeks, I have spent at least six hours studying for that class.  This is aside from any day-to-day work I have to do.  On Saturday I spent almost nine hours on this stuff, and the only reason I didn't spend that much time on Sunday is because I had a Physiology exam Monday that I had to get ready for.  So, two thoughts:

1. If I had studied that hard for even half of my exams last semester, I would have gotten straight A's.  Guaranteed.
2. If I had studied that hard for my exams last semester, Matt and I might be separated right now.  I have barely seen him for two weeks and it has been miserable.  Last semester I frequently said that as someone who was married, I came prepackaged with certain priorities that sit above medical school.  This should also be true for anyone who comes in with kids.  Having those priorities out of order this week was terrible and I am glad it is over (for a while).

I am trying not to obsessively check online for my grade; I have only failed twice three times. But the more I think about it, the more I realise that doing well on that test will only partially justify all the time and effort I sank into preparing for it.  In my other classes I don't think I could justify that level of sacrifice at all.  And there it is.  I am not willing to give up enough to earn straight A's, full stop.  And so it won't happen.

This closes doors.  For example, I already know that this will make it almost impossible for me to ever get into surgery, which is okay.  I do not want to do surgery.  Surgeons can't lead normal lives and everyone in the medical field knows it.  Why would you even want that?

Tonight is date night for Matt and me.  I'm excited to get back to what's actually important.

Professionalism is a joke.

This semester I have the goal of running a 5K in April.  This seemed totally doable in January.  But now I am le tired.  I can run a mile and a half right now, though, so we will see.

Neuroanatomy exam I on Thursday.  I am terrified.  I have been working myself into the ground and I feel like it won't be enough.  Having spent easily 30 hours on that class in the last four days, I am taking a bit of a break tonight.  And paying for it tomorrow by getting up [shudder] really early.  But I can't do it tonight.  I can't.  Maybe tomorrow I will be able to.

Today I took a Phys exam, number II for the semester.  Before the first test I was warned by multiple second-years not to really study the material, but instead to memorise the old exams.  The good student in me rejected this and instead I studied the material really hard.  I barely passed that test.  For this one, I barely studied by comparison; I spent roughly four hours memorising old exams and maybe two hours going over the actual material.  That has to be a fourth of the time I sank into preparing for the first test. 

I scored over a full letter grade higher. 

Beating the system is not fulfilling.  Call it idealistic of me, but I would much rather have to study the material and then take a test that is somewhat challenging, and then have a grade that directly correlates with the quality of my studying.  Most of my exams are not like this, thank goodness.  But even having one like this bothers me a lot, because it's wrong.  Just wrong.

Also.  Class tends to be varying levels of a waste of time, ranging from 'sort of' all the way out to 'My time would be better spent in the wrong line at the DMV.'  The issue is that I don't have time to waste not learning unless I am actively taking a break from learning.  (Side note: everything that is not studying is a break from studying.  Food.  Commute.  Using the toilet.  Conversation.  Everything.  Sleep is not on this list, as I frequently wake myself up studying - listing things, going through procedures, etc. - and all of my dreams are related to school).  So to go to class expecting it to be four hours of learning and to walk out feeling like you'd just been told you were, in fact, in the wrong line at the DMV is beyond frustrating.

So don't go, you say.  Ah.  But.

Apparently I attend  a 'professional' institution, by which I mean people are highly unprofessional all the time, unless someone gets annoyed about something, at which point they reach into his/her ill-fitted scrubs and throw a good old-fashioned hissy fit someone a professional foul card.  So when people stop coming to class, other people get annoyed and start throwing cards and insults around, spreading small lacerations and all kinds of irritation.  Come to class! they say.  It's your professional responsibility!  And if you really think it's stupid then just come and study while you are in class.

This does indeed leave one with a moral dilemma.  One must study, which precludes paying attention in class; but one must apparently attend class, because it is one's professional responsibility.  But is it professional to attend class and blatantly do something unrelated to the lecture?  Someone reading a textbook (or IM chatting, or playing Mario on the computer) looks very different than someone listening.   Which is more respectful, uninterestedly filling a seat or not filling one at all?  The card-throwers are resoundingly silent when I pose this question, which I have done repeatedly.

Hello

Hello!  This blog is, at the time of writing, planned to be mostly a way to keep in touch with far-flung family and friends.  Those who know me know that I am mostly terrible at: phone calls, email, text messages, listening to voicemail, and thank-you notes, so hopefully I can keep up with this better. 

Honestly, this is my last chance to convince my nearest and dearest that I do in fact attend medical school and am not just putting on scrubs every day and heading to the nearest bar.

Hx - But really.

I have been drowning in work.  Nature of the beast, I know.

I am so tired.  And I have so much work to do.  Two exams this week, two next week.  This semester is not fun and honestly, I'm struggling.  I have the vague memory of doing this at the beginning of last semester - fighting to find some sort of balance - and it being hard, but mostly I'm stuck in the present, and the present is this cycle of being exhausted and falling behind, panicking, wearing myself out the second I have any energy, having one really productive day, and then being exhausted.  It seems like my classmates are for the most part going through the same issues. 

I choked during a practical yesterday.  Really choked, which is something I don't remember ever doing before (I really mean that.  I am not someone who generally has trouble with stress).  It was OMM and I was perfect during the diagnosis bit, but then I treated my partner incorrectly three times in a row.  Three times.  Then it was my partner's turn and he was just fine.  When he was finished the instructor looked at me and said, "Now Zoe.  How do you treat a downslipped innominate shear.  Tell me about it."  This is what my partner had, when half of the pelvis has slipped down a bit compared to the other half.  This is REALLY EASY to treat; if it is down, push it up.  How do we do that?  Well, it's only the easiest and most hands-off treatment that exists on this planet.  The patient bounces that side's ischial tuberosity (bony part of your butt) on the edge of the exam table a few times.  The correct treatment was for my partner to bounce on his butt on the edge of the table and it still took me three attempts and then, when asked yet again, another two full seconds to realise it.  When I did, I was mortified.  I mean, come on.  COME ON.  Ugh.

Okay.  Neuroanatomy time.

Hx - Light ahead?

So you might say that blogs are my coping mechanism this semester.  And I just read an entry that gives me hope, not just that things will get better at some point, but that things can get good.

Read this post and you will see what I mean.

I want that.  THAT.  thatthatthatthatthat (er, minus the babies and possibly the yoga).  And it is so good to know that it is possible to slog through the next five years and come out the other side and be able to NOT work all the time.  I will have the option of being selfish, of setting boundaries.  I understand the sacrifice I'd be making, of course.  Those who are excellent are not usually happy or balanced, and vice versa.  But when I look ahead I see my options fanning out in front of me now; it's not just about being the best doctor possible and saving! the! world! and becoming this Doctor that everyone admires unconditionally.  That's what I dreamed of, vaguely, growing up.  Now, however, I can see that I would be happy in a different way just doing what I can at work, being just a doctor, and coming home and having time to be happy, to write, to read (to dig into my Bible!  oh!), to sleep.  To have friends.  To have a husband who gets to see me every day (or close to).  I love what EMPhysician said:

"I believe that being rich means having choices, period. Money certainly allows for more choices (to a point), and is therefore a necessary part of the equation. But, choosing how you spend your time, where you spend your time, who you spend your time with, etc...for me actually defines "rich." If I'm working 25 shifts/month, I may have a $30,000+ bring home salary/month, but really, I'm not rich if I have to go to work frikin 25 days/month!!"

So true.  And one thing I have ALREADY learned from my tiny amount of time doing this is that I don't feel fulfilled by being hardcore.  Working my butt off and being exhausted and not having time for anyone (including myself) doesn't make me feel good, it just makes me feel neglectful, neglected and tired.  Don't get me wrong.  I am more than willing to do what it takes to succeed over the next five or six years.  I'm committed to that, and I've made my peace with it.  But a large part of that being okay is the hope that there is something better on the other side of the mountain.  I think if I knew without a doubt that I would always be working this hard and feeling this downtrodden, I would have to quit and... I don't know, go get my master's and do [shudder] research or something.  Whatever, you get the point. 

I don't think I want to sacrifice myself for my profession anymore; I don't think it would be worth it.  And maybe it's a lesser goal, but I think I'd rather try to be happy.