A friend shared this open letter, which I found to be a good representation of how my classmates and I feel as we watch our debts pile up at a terrifying rate. For us the costs are even higher than those outlined in this letter, because we attend an international medical school. Not only is our tuition much higher (about double what Dr. Moeller mentions), but we also must consider the costs of airline tickets, visa applications, and the very, very high cost of living in Australia.
Doctors are not well-represented in Washington, but I hope this letter makes our situation a little clearer to the politicians.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 29, 2012
Y1 elective
The day we finished our last final exam, my Facebook newsfeed was paved with my classmates' excited declarations that we were a quarter of the way through med school, that we were 25% doctors. They weren't quite correct, though, since we still had the Y1 elective left to get through.
That was five weeks ago, and I am now on the last week of my six-week elective rotation in the Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery department of the Princess Alexandra Hospital. My first year of medical school is really finally drawing to a close, and... well, I hardly feel like I'm 25% doctor.
Good grief. Make that 0.00001% and I might consider it.
I don't mean that I haven't learned anything this year, because oh, I have. I have learned so much, not just from the endless lectures and PBLs and piles of textbooks, but also from my friends and classmates and clinical coaches, and the doctors and nurses and fourth-years who taught me so willingly during my elective. And most of all from the patients who greeted a mere first-year student with an encouraging smile, patiently answered my incoherent questions, and unhesitatingly shared their stories with me.
A lot of the stories were sad, made particularly so by the fact that these are real things happening to real people. I met a 44-year-old gentleman who had previously had several big operations to remove cancers, and then had to have half his jaw removed in another operation because of yet more cancer. He had chosen to have this done instead of going on his honeymoon, and we found yet more tumors on the other side of his face that the scans hadn't picked up... How do you tell a young man -- and he is young, compared to the majority of the patient population -- that even after all that, he doesn't have long to live? That his cancer is spreading quickly despite our best efforts, and maybe he should have gone on that honeymoon instead of getting the surgery?
There was also that 25-year-old gentleman whose hand got caught in heavy machinery at work. After five hours of painstakingly piecing together the fragments of bone and grafting blood vessels together, the doctors managed to save one of the three crushed fingers. He'll have to live the rest of his life with just the thumb, index finger, and little finger on his left hand, and the index finger probably won't even work as well as it did.
And that 67-year-old lady who came to get a mole examined, only to learn that it was actually a massive tumor growing into her head. The excision and reconstruction involved three surgical departments, as well as two medical departments to stabilize her after each operation. I see her on the ward every day, and she seems so tired and unwell, it makes me wonder if she ever regrets getting the checkup that led to all this.
And what about that 33-year-old lady who lost both legs just a month ago due to necrotizing fasciitis arising from enteric sepsis? And then just last week she lost her right forearm and left fingers, including the thumb. How do you even begin that conversation about what needs to be done?
But shockingly, it's not all bad. If it were, I honestly don't think anyone would, or even could, stay in the profession. You meet people from all walks of life, who face these hardships bravely and cheerfully, and it's frankly amazing. There was that 83-year-old gentleman whose toe was amputated on my very first day at the hospital. He also had multiple skin cancers removed in the same operation, as well as his inguinal lymph nodes from one leg. He must have been in so much pain once the analgesia wore off, but he greeted us cheerily every morning, often with a cheeky smile and a joke for the female doctors and nurses.
And that 64-year-old gentleman who had a cancerous lump the size of a cue ball removed from the back of his head just last Friday, who greeted us on Monday morning with a big smile. He thanked everyone for a job well done, never letting on how uncomfortable it was to have to keep his neck extended all the time.
My personal favorite was the 92-year-old lady with a skin cancer near her left lower eyelid. She told me she was worried that the operation to remove the cancer would affect her eyesight, because then she wouldn't be able to "help the old people read the bingo numbers" at the local nursing home where she volunteers three days a week.
It has been a fantastic six weeks, easily one of the best experiences from my first year of medical school. On the one hand I am completely overwhelmed to realize just how little I actually know and what a long, long way there is still to go. When, if ever, will I reach that level where I feel it is safe for people to put their lives into my hands? But on the other hand, I think this experience has rekindled my motivation after an exhausting year. I only have three more years to learn as much as I can, before I become a doctor and take on the enormous responsibility that comes with the title.
I only hope I'll be ready for it.
That was five weeks ago, and I am now on the last week of my six-week elective rotation in the Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery department of the Princess Alexandra Hospital. My first year of medical school is really finally drawing to a close, and... well, I hardly feel like I'm 25% doctor.
Good grief. Make that 0.00001% and I might consider it.
I don't mean that I haven't learned anything this year, because oh, I have. I have learned so much, not just from the endless lectures and PBLs and piles of textbooks, but also from my friends and classmates and clinical coaches, and the doctors and nurses and fourth-years who taught me so willingly during my elective. And most of all from the patients who greeted a mere first-year student with an encouraging smile, patiently answered my incoherent questions, and unhesitatingly shared their stories with me.
A lot of the stories were sad, made particularly so by the fact that these are real things happening to real people. I met a 44-year-old gentleman who had previously had several big operations to remove cancers, and then had to have half his jaw removed in another operation because of yet more cancer. He had chosen to have this done instead of going on his honeymoon, and we found yet more tumors on the other side of his face that the scans hadn't picked up... How do you tell a young man -- and he is young, compared to the majority of the patient population -- that even after all that, he doesn't have long to live? That his cancer is spreading quickly despite our best efforts, and maybe he should have gone on that honeymoon instead of getting the surgery?
There was also that 25-year-old gentleman whose hand got caught in heavy machinery at work. After five hours of painstakingly piecing together the fragments of bone and grafting blood vessels together, the doctors managed to save one of the three crushed fingers. He'll have to live the rest of his life with just the thumb, index finger, and little finger on his left hand, and the index finger probably won't even work as well as it did.
And that 67-year-old lady who came to get a mole examined, only to learn that it was actually a massive tumor growing into her head. The excision and reconstruction involved three surgical departments, as well as two medical departments to stabilize her after each operation. I see her on the ward every day, and she seems so tired and unwell, it makes me wonder if she ever regrets getting the checkup that led to all this.
And what about that 33-year-old lady who lost both legs just a month ago due to necrotizing fasciitis arising from enteric sepsis? And then just last week she lost her right forearm and left fingers, including the thumb. How do you even begin that conversation about what needs to be done?
But shockingly, it's not all bad. If it were, I honestly don't think anyone would, or even could, stay in the profession. You meet people from all walks of life, who face these hardships bravely and cheerfully, and it's frankly amazing. There was that 83-year-old gentleman whose toe was amputated on my very first day at the hospital. He also had multiple skin cancers removed in the same operation, as well as his inguinal lymph nodes from one leg. He must have been in so much pain once the analgesia wore off, but he greeted us cheerily every morning, often with a cheeky smile and a joke for the female doctors and nurses.
And that 64-year-old gentleman who had a cancerous lump the size of a cue ball removed from the back of his head just last Friday, who greeted us on Monday morning with a big smile. He thanked everyone for a job well done, never letting on how uncomfortable it was to have to keep his neck extended all the time.
My personal favorite was the 92-year-old lady with a skin cancer near her left lower eyelid. She told me she was worried that the operation to remove the cancer would affect her eyesight, because then she wouldn't be able to "help the old people read the bingo numbers" at the local nursing home where she volunteers three days a week.
It has been a fantastic six weeks, easily one of the best experiences from my first year of medical school. On the one hand I am completely overwhelmed to realize just how little I actually know and what a long, long way there is still to go. When, if ever, will I reach that level where I feel it is safe for people to put their lives into my hands? But on the other hand, I think this experience has rekindled my motivation after an exhausting year. I only have three more years to learn as much as I can, before I become a doctor and take on the enormous responsibility that comes with the title.
I only hope I'll be ready for it.
Oct 17, 2011
The Healer's Dilemma
My child, the child of my heart, though never of my name,
Who shares my Gift; whose eyes, though young, are mine -- the very same
Who shares my every thought, whose skillful hands I taught so well
Now hear the hardest lesson I shall ever have to tell.
Young Healer, I have taught you all I know of wounds and pain
Of illnesses, and all the herbs of blessing and of bane
Of all the usage of your Gift; all that I could impart
And how you learned young Healer, brought rejoicing to my heart.
But there is yet one lessoning I cannot give you
For you must find your own way there -- judge what is sound and true
This lesson is the cruelest ever Healer had to teach
It is -- what you must do when there are those you cannot reach.
However great your Gift there will be times when you will fail
There will be those you cannot help, your skill cannot prevail.
When you fight Death, and lose to Him, or what may yet be worse
You win -- to find the wreck He left regards you with a curse.
And worst of all, and harder still, the times when it's a friend
Who looks to you to bring him peace and make his torment end
What will you do, young Healer, when there's nothing you can do?
I can give only counsel, for the rest is up to you.
This only will I counsel you; that if you build a shell
Of armor close about you, then you close yourself in Hell.
And if your heart should harden, then your Gift will fade and die
And all that you have lived and learned will then become a lie.
My child, your Healing hands are guided by your Healing heart
And that is all the wisdom all my learning can impart.
You take this pain upon you as you challenge life unknown
And there can be no answer here but one -- and that's your own.
-- from Arrow's Fall by Mercedes Lackey
Who shares my Gift; whose eyes, though young, are mine -- the very same
Who shares my every thought, whose skillful hands I taught so well
Now hear the hardest lesson I shall ever have to tell.
Young Healer, I have taught you all I know of wounds and pain
Of illnesses, and all the herbs of blessing and of bane
Of all the usage of your Gift; all that I could impart
And how you learned young Healer, brought rejoicing to my heart.
But there is yet one lessoning I cannot give you
For you must find your own way there -- judge what is sound and true
This lesson is the cruelest ever Healer had to teach
It is -- what you must do when there are those you cannot reach.
However great your Gift there will be times when you will fail
There will be those you cannot help, your skill cannot prevail.
When you fight Death, and lose to Him, or what may yet be worse
You win -- to find the wreck He left regards you with a curse.
And worst of all, and harder still, the times when it's a friend
Who looks to you to bring him peace and make his torment end
What will you do, young Healer, when there's nothing you can do?
I can give only counsel, for the rest is up to you.
This only will I counsel you; that if you build a shell
Of armor close about you, then you close yourself in Hell.
And if your heart should harden, then your Gift will fade and die
And all that you have lived and learned will then become a lie.
My child, your Healing hands are guided by your Healing heart
And that is all the wisdom all my learning can impart.
You take this pain upon you as you challenge life unknown
And there can be no answer here but one -- and that's your own.
-- from Arrow's Fall by Mercedes Lackey
Apr 25, 2011
What does it take?
A lot of people who know me think that I would make a good doctor. Or at least that's what they tell me, and I choose to believe them because (1) these are people whose opinions I trust and respect, and (2) I want to think that I would make a good doctor.
But clearly I'm missing something, because I have yet to get even an interview at a medical school, much less an admission.
So maybe I need to reach a different conclusion from this. Maybe I do need to change something about myself. But would that mean that I'm not actually cut out to be a doctor, that I should stop wasting my time and just figure out something else to do with my life?
But clearly I'm missing something, because I have yet to get even an interview at a medical school, much less an admission.
So maybe I need to reach a different conclusion from this. Maybe I do need to change something about myself. But would that mean that I'm not actually cut out to be a doctor, that I should stop wasting my time and just figure out something else to do with my life?
Apr 15, 2011
UQ School of Medicine/Ochsner Clinical School
Statement of purpose: describe your educational objectives.
I was initially drawn to medicine because of the science: the delicate chemistry within a cell, the incredible complexity of the neural network, the elegant intricacy of the human hand. During the past several years I have been involved in a variety of research projects, ranging from organometallic chemistry to applied mathematics to diabetes and transplantation research. While I appreciate the beauty of pure science, I now find myself more attracted to the human side of medicine, working directly with patients. During college I became a wilderness first responder, and completed the EMT-basic training and became involved in various community service endeavors around Boston after graduation. After completing medical training, I hope to become involved with global organizations like Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders), reaching out to those who need the most help.
Besides the opportunity to serve others, medicine also provides a dynamic setting for personal growth. Over the past year, I have learned an incredible amount about the human body, and have realized anew how much more there still is for me to learn. The fast pace of medical advancement means that a physician must constantly update her own understanding of medicine and pass on this expertise to patients, students, residents, and colleagues. During my two-month internship in the emergency department of the New York-Presbyterian Hospital, the doctors, nurses, and techs welcomed me into this culture, inviting me to watch examinations and procedures, encouraging my questions. At the weekly seminars, the attending physicians and residents took turns presenting unusual cases and new studies, fostering discussions about ways to improve patient care.
My idea of a physician never stops learning, to best help those in need. Of course a doctor cannot save everyone, and there are times when the best course of action is uncertain. Despite that, this is what I want to do.
Why are you interested in participating in a global education experience?
Minutes after the first massive earthquake hit Japan, the world knew of it. Within hours, people around the globe were organizing aid to be delivered there. In an age when even some of the most remote parts of the world are reachable by jet planes and the Internet, we carry a much greater responsibility to our global neighbors than did previous generations. As connections and contacts increase, so does the necessity for understanding and acceptance of differences. Even between similar cultures, there are subtle differences in practices and core beliefs that distinguish one from another, which can potentially create misunderstandings.
I was thrilled to learn about the Australia-US Medical School program, for the opportunity to absorb the customs of new parts of the world while simultaneously receiving medical training at world-class institutions. Exposure to different cultures than I am accustomed to would keep me flexible and challenged, and able to think beyond my limited horizon, which are crucial qualities in a doctor in this global age.
How will your experience in New Orleans enhance your educational goals?
New Orleans has a peculiar charm, quite unlike any other place I have seen. During a short visit several years ago, I fell in love with the city’s vibrant colors, music, and flavors. However, behind its façade of gaiety, New Orleans is a struggling city. Major disasters like Hurricane Katrina and the BP oil spill hit the region in rapid succession, leaving its residents reeling. Yet the people in New Orleans continue to rebuild their beloved city and greet visitors with a generosity that they surely cannot afford.
By living and studying there, I hope that I will be able to absorb some of the hospitable mentality and quiet perseverance that represents the South, so that I can help and serve others with the same cheerfulness and strength that I saw in the people of New Orleans.
I was initially drawn to medicine because of the science: the delicate chemistry within a cell, the incredible complexity of the neural network, the elegant intricacy of the human hand. During the past several years I have been involved in a variety of research projects, ranging from organometallic chemistry to applied mathematics to diabetes and transplantation research. While I appreciate the beauty of pure science, I now find myself more attracted to the human side of medicine, working directly with patients. During college I became a wilderness first responder, and completed the EMT-basic training and became involved in various community service endeavors around Boston after graduation. After completing medical training, I hope to become involved with global organizations like Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders), reaching out to those who need the most help.
Besides the opportunity to serve others, medicine also provides a dynamic setting for personal growth. Over the past year, I have learned an incredible amount about the human body, and have realized anew how much more there still is for me to learn. The fast pace of medical advancement means that a physician must constantly update her own understanding of medicine and pass on this expertise to patients, students, residents, and colleagues. During my two-month internship in the emergency department of the New York-Presbyterian Hospital, the doctors, nurses, and techs welcomed me into this culture, inviting me to watch examinations and procedures, encouraging my questions. At the weekly seminars, the attending physicians and residents took turns presenting unusual cases and new studies, fostering discussions about ways to improve patient care.
My idea of a physician never stops learning, to best help those in need. Of course a doctor cannot save everyone, and there are times when the best course of action is uncertain. Despite that, this is what I want to do.
Why are you interested in participating in a global education experience?
Minutes after the first massive earthquake hit Japan, the world knew of it. Within hours, people around the globe were organizing aid to be delivered there. In an age when even some of the most remote parts of the world are reachable by jet planes and the Internet, we carry a much greater responsibility to our global neighbors than did previous generations. As connections and contacts increase, so does the necessity for understanding and acceptance of differences. Even between similar cultures, there are subtle differences in practices and core beliefs that distinguish one from another, which can potentially create misunderstandings.
I was thrilled to learn about the Australia-US Medical School program, for the opportunity to absorb the customs of new parts of the world while simultaneously receiving medical training at world-class institutions. Exposure to different cultures than I am accustomed to would keep me flexible and challenged, and able to think beyond my limited horizon, which are crucial qualities in a doctor in this global age.
How will your experience in New Orleans enhance your educational goals?
New Orleans has a peculiar charm, quite unlike any other place I have seen. During a short visit several years ago, I fell in love with the city’s vibrant colors, music, and flavors. However, behind its façade of gaiety, New Orleans is a struggling city. Major disasters like Hurricane Katrina and the BP oil spill hit the region in rapid succession, leaving its residents reeling. Yet the people in New Orleans continue to rebuild their beloved city and greet visitors with a generosity that they surely cannot afford.
By living and studying there, I hope that I will be able to absorb some of the hospitable mentality and quiet perseverance that represents the South, so that I can help and serve others with the same cheerfulness and strength that I saw in the people of New Orleans.
Mar 30, 2011
Why do you want to be a doctor?
She was talking when she came in. The paramedics wheeled in a 21-year-old woman sitting up in the stretcher, trying to stay calm as she watched the doctors and nurses hook her up to various monitors. Her boyfriend, by contrast, was beside himself with panic: his girlfriend's heart rate was 232 bpm, and she did not have a blood pressure. But surely the cuff was just faulty, if the patient was able to speak. No one was too worried about the prospects of a strong young woman, even when the patient started vomiting yellowish liquid. However, the x-ray showed her lungs full of fluid due to a thrombosis of a replacement heart valve, which resulted in the backup of blood. Mere moments after the doctors realized the seriousness of the situation, the patient's heart rate plummeted to a flat line, and she never recovered a pulse.
This was the start of my sixteen-hour overnight shift.
By the end of my summer internship in the emergency department at the New York-Presbyterian Hospital, I had met amazing doctors and nurses, listened to many patients' stories, watched routine examinations and fascinating procedures, and, yes, witnessed deaths. The two months were filled with new experiences that left me even more eager to begin medical training.
I was initially drawn to medicine because of the science: the delicate chemistry within a cell, the incredible complexity of the neural network, the elegant intricacy of the human hand. During the past several years I have been involved in a variety of research projects, ranging from organometallic chemistry to applied mathematics to diabetes and transplantation research. While I appreciate the beauty of pure science, I find myself more attracted to the human side of medicine, working directly with patients. Being actively involved in the college outing club as well as various intramural and club sports made me keenly aware of the risk of injuries and other emergency situations, and I wanted to be able to help. During college I became a wilderness first responder, and, inspired by my experiences in the emergency department the previous summer, completed the EMT-basic training after graduation.
In addition to allowing me an opportunity to serve others, medicine also provides a dynamic setting for personal growth. The fast pace of medical discovery means that a physician must constantly update her own understanding of medicine while simultaneously passing on her expertise to patients,medical students, residents, and colleagues. The doctors, nurses, and techs at the New York-Presbyterian ED welcomed me into this culture, inviting me to watch examinations and procedures, encouraging my questions. At the weekly seminars, the attending physicians and residents took turns presenting unusual cases and new studies, fostering discussions about ways to improve the patient experience.
Despite the medical community's best efforts and intentions, however, it is still impossible to save every patient. During my two months in New York, as well as a semester-long internship at an oncologist's office during my sophomore year, I faced the deaths of several patients, some of whom I had gotten to know over the course of multiple visits. The death of the young woman in the ED was especially difficult to cope with, even for the doctors and nurses who had "seen it all." The chief resident had to explain to the patient's grief-stricken boyfriend and mother what had happened, and after they left, I saw her slump in a chair for a few moments before going to see the next patient. The attending on that shift presented the case during the next week's seminar, inviting everyone to discuss what happened, and what could have been tried to save the young woman. Physicians keep learning, doing the best they can for everyone. That is what I want to do.
This was the start of my sixteen-hour overnight shift.
By the end of my summer internship in the emergency department at the New York-Presbyterian Hospital, I had met amazing doctors and nurses, listened to many patients' stories, watched routine examinations and fascinating procedures, and, yes, witnessed deaths. The two months were filled with new experiences that left me even more eager to begin medical training.
I was initially drawn to medicine because of the science: the delicate chemistry within a cell, the incredible complexity of the neural network, the elegant intricacy of the human hand. During the past several years I have been involved in a variety of research projects, ranging from organometallic chemistry to applied mathematics to diabetes and transplantation research. While I appreciate the beauty of pure science, I find myself more attracted to the human side of medicine, working directly with patients. Being actively involved in the college outing club as well as various intramural and club sports made me keenly aware of the risk of injuries and other emergency situations, and I wanted to be able to help. During college I became a wilderness first responder, and, inspired by my experiences in the emergency department the previous summer, completed the EMT-basic training after graduation.
In addition to allowing me an opportunity to serve others, medicine also provides a dynamic setting for personal growth. The fast pace of medical discovery means that a physician must constantly update her own understanding of medicine while simultaneously passing on her expertise to patients,medical students, residents, and colleagues. The doctors, nurses, and techs at the New York-Presbyterian ED welcomed me into this culture, inviting me to watch examinations and procedures, encouraging my questions. At the weekly seminars, the attending physicians and residents took turns presenting unusual cases and new studies, fostering discussions about ways to improve the patient experience.
Despite the medical community's best efforts and intentions, however, it is still impossible to save every patient. During my two months in New York, as well as a semester-long internship at an oncologist's office during my sophomore year, I faced the deaths of several patients, some of whom I had gotten to know over the course of multiple visits. The death of the young woman in the ED was especially difficult to cope with, even for the doctors and nurses who had "seen it all." The chief resident had to explain to the patient's grief-stricken boyfriend and mother what had happened, and after they left, I saw her slump in a chair for a few moments before going to see the next patient. The attending on that shift presented the case during the next week's seminar, inviting everyone to discuss what happened, and what could have been tried to save the young woman. Physicians keep learning, doing the best they can for everyone. That is what I want to do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)