
365::62 - moments so quietly gone by brdwatchr1
I was going to call this something else, but this picture so perfectly says it.
I still have review sessions and tests left, but today marked the end of lecture for Phase I, my first year of medical student.
We marked the end of class solemnly by throwing pies in the face of one of the course directors (it was part of a fundraiser). The throwers were picked out of a box, so I naturally started a movement to “nominate” one of our friends to do the throwing. Alas, it didn’t work.
We have a test on this module coming up, followed by shelf exams. Shelf exams serve as a checkpoint at the end of the first year, so students can gauge their retention of knowledge for second year when we have to take the step 1 boards. The lecturers in charge of the relevant subject areas are nicely putting together review sessions/materials to help us study.
These tests aside, I’ve covered all of the material from the first year of medical school. I can’t remember how much I’ve written about our curriculum, but medical school is basically broken into four parts. Roughly, the point of each year is as follows: The first year covers how the body should work. The second year covers how things can go wrong (and pharmacology). The third year is how you treat these disease states. The fourth year sort of continues the third, but with more of a focus on what you want to do (and where you are going to go…Match!).
So with Phase I nearly complete, I should have a fairly comprehensive understanding of how the human body works. I guess I’ll get to gauge that over the next few weeks as I take my shelf exams.
Non Sequitor (This gets just a tad graphic…and sad, so be forewarned.): So last night I had a pretty weird moment. I ran out to hit an ATM to deposit some checks and deposit some checks. On the way back, I swerved to miss a cat who had been hit. It wasn’t until I passed by that I realized that the cat was still moving. The cat rolled over on its back and onto the other side, clearly writhing in pain. By the time I pulled around and got out of the car, the cat had died (or seemed dead enough without me risking exposure to something like rabies). At the time, I remember feeling pretty powerless seeing as how my initial reaction was to actually ask the cat if it was okay. I whistled a few times and checked to see if it would respond, but there was enough blood on the pavement to rule out this cat’s survival. I was fairly sure that I could leave and be satisfied that the cat wasn’t hurting any more.
Of course, at the time my head reeled thinking about what actually was going on with the cat. Even moving the cat would have probably resulted in the cat’s death. I don’t really have much else to say about it. When I got home, I wound up staying up really late because I didn’t feel like going to bed or studying with those thoughts in my head.