Doubt

Today was one of those days that made me wonder if I am really cut out to be a doctor.  I actually quite enjoyed what I learned today, but I am suffering from Colleague-Induced Psychosis.  Don't get me wrong - I love my Esteemed Colleagues deeply - but sometimes I think some of them are barking mad.

I was thinking of running a quiz, getting people to choose between, "PTR is a weirdo" and "PTR is surrounded by weirdos" to resolve the issue once and for all.  But since I've already figured out that you, Gentle Readers, are largely a bunch of dog-loving, macadamia-munching poll fraudsters, I think I'll pass on seeking your opinion on myself.

So what freaked me out today?

Well, it was my first real day back after 10 days of holiday and another week of "research" and a few days of a slow start to this week.  Suddenly I was plunged back into a situation where awful things were happening, such as being asked to remember stuff that I sat an exam in about two weeks back - and I couldn't remember.  As for stuff that I should probably have learned back in first year (and presumably did, otherwise I wouldn't be here in second year) - no chance.  Yet somehow I find myself in a room with various eidetic freaks who can rattle this stuff on as if they're on Are You Smarter Than A 5th-Grader.  Fun fun fun.

It didn't help that later on we were shown some videos of people getting their tonsils out.  Eurgh!  Some people really like surgery.  Michael Jackson, for instance.  I don't.  Some types of surgery don't bother me too much.  Anything done with via remote control from across the room is sufficiently abstract that it doesn't bother me.  But watching someone jam clamps and knives down some poor bastard's throat and yank their tonsils out just makes me feel ill.  It looked grotesque.  Like someone turning a mouse inside out.  I can't believe that people really want to do that.  You lunatics - you know who you are!

I am quite squeamish about anything above the shoulders.  Necks, throats, ears, eyes, mouths, faces.  It's all bad.  Brains are okay, probably because we never really see them so they don't really seem to actually exist in real people (though I am assured that they do). It does make me wonder how I'm going to cope the first time someone staggers into my emergency room with a smashed-in face when I'm an intern.  Maybe I'll volunteer to bandage his sprained ankle.

No, I'm sure I'll be fine.  It's all a process of acclimatisation.  Two years ago I probably would have freaked out if I'd walked into an room to find severed body parts on trays waiting for me, but now that seems quite reasonable.  There's an ongoing renovation of my mind happening.  I like the colour scheme, but it does seem quite echo-y.  Needs more rugs, methinks.