The Eternal Uncertainty of the Medical Student — Chronicles of a Medical Student

10th of May 2021

Let me start this post by clarifying that for the longest time I ascribed to the perennial behaviour that plagues the majority of medical students. An attitude that nearly borders martyrdom.

You know, "med school is so difficult, I wanna go to sleep", "omg there's so much stuff to do", "I don't have any free time I'm always studying" and "I am spending so much time in my education and worrying about the future that I will likely drive all of my friends and relationships away and I'll die alone eaten by the seven hundreds cats I will have amassed over the years". The usual.

I am glad to say I am no longer of that mind, and I remind myself that I chose this life for myself. Instead of complaining, maybe I should be looking for ways to adapt.

That doesn't take away the fact that in medical school we are confronted with huge amounts of uncertainty almost on a daily basis, an extra burden of stress that chips away at your sanity.

As a medical student, you are always new to a place. Forever the least experienced, the least knowledgeable person and constantly introducing yourself to everyone in the hopes they will pity you and teach you like a human being and not like a standing pile of flesh that is always in the way.

Right now I am sat in the hospital cafeteria, eating my cold lunch, and I am ruminating how this idea has never been truer than today.

Let me explain why.

Yesterday I was in theatre all day observing and assisting in every way I can (I have become an absolute expert at moving the light around, holding retractors, skin hooks and you really should see me handling the scissors with majestic precision when I cut the sutures) and I was told to join the main surgeon for surgery the next day on a different hospital.

One that is 19 miles away. Oh, and I should be there at 08.00 am sharp.

I have no car, there were no buses or trains to my knowledge and I hadn’t been to that faraway hospital in my life.

Long story short, I spent 30 pounds on an uber and because of traffic and not knowing the surroundings I was 30 minutes late.

No one was there.

So I sat in my conspicuous grey medical student scrubs, boiling in my own rage for the better part of 40 min until someone showed up. I then followed them (at times almost running, Christ do you have to take turns and dash like you’re trying to lose me?), scrambled to put on a surgical cap, crocs and scrub in, only to have my head chewed off by the ward sister for having my grey scrubs and not the ones the hospital provides.

Uncertainty distilled.

Yet after assisting in three surgeries I don't care about all that stuff one bit.

The way I see it (only now, mind you, since at the time I wanted to eviscerate the nearest person) is a trade off. Your stress, uncertainty, awkwardness, inadequacy, stares, grins and comments for a chance to scrub in with the surgeon.

There is no greater learning opportunity than being by the bed as they work, incise, nip and knot as time flies by. Every now and then I look around with dissimule and shake my head internally, flabbergasted at what I’m doing.

Truth be told, I started this entry with rather different intentions (much more ranty) and I find myself gushing once again about surgery.

What can I say, I like what I'm doing and that uncertainty is a price I'm happy to pay.