Get Over It

Last weekend was Parent's Weekend here at St. George's. Many first-termers, including myself, put our studies on the back-burner for a few days while we entertained family and friends on island cruises and nutmeg factory tours. At the end of it all was the White Coat Ceremony, an event to celebrate the beginning of our medical education.

The Master of Ceremonies was Dr. Reginald Abraham, a St. George's graduate from the class of 1990, and he left a lasting impression on me. Up until last weekend, one of the most common questions to ask a first-termer was where they applied to medical school in the States. During his opening remarks, Dr. Abraham addressed this by saying,

"You're here now. Get over it."

Wow. Tough love hurts, but it works, too. I stopped asking that question and never answered it when I was asked again.

Now that the honeymoon's over, the parent's are gone, and SGU has stopped giving away free food, it's time to catch up. The Bioethics Final is only a few weeks away and everyone is trying to figure out the best way to handle the workload. Whether it's by using the BRS (Board Review Series) or the Mac Daddy (SECRET file passed down from upper-termers containing old tests) everyone has their own unique way of studying and it can be easy to fall into the trap of freaking out because you aren't doing what everyone else is doing.

Take anatomy lab, for example. This week was our first session and a few students decided to take a peek at the cadavers BEFORE lab had even started. After the rumors started to spread about this rogue group, more students went nuts, causing masses of first-termers to pack the anatomy lab to PRE-study before the lab sessions had started.

Get over it. Dr. Abraham's words were all I could think of when a few of my friends asked if I wanted to tag-along on their late-night, freak-out journey to the anatomy lab. I declined, opting instead to catch up with my college roommate via Skype. In the end, I was more than prepared for anatomy lab and held my own during the professor's examination.

It's only been a few weeks and many of us are already losing confidence. It might be the workload or the new location, but either way, we're making it harder for ourselves to succeed by obsessing over the Mac Daddy or spreading a rumor about an online quiz.

The first two years of Medical School seem to break you free from your interest in caring for people. An odd way to build the foundation for one's medical education, right?

Taped to the wall near my desk is a card given to me from a friend. His name is David and he is a resident at an assisted-living center where I used to work. I brought the card with me to Grenada as a reminder of why I am here and why I am putting myself through years of hard work and huge amounts of debt. Whenever I feel troubled or that I can't handle the pressure, I read his inscription as a way to motivate myself to keep going.

I move on. I get over it. I re-open "Gray's Anatomy."

White Coat Ceremony

Today is the beginning of my medical education and training as a physician. I acknowledge my responsibility to continue the pursuit of knowledge and understanding until that day when I will cease to be a practicing physician.

I am entering training for a noble profession in which my interest must always be subservient to those who may seek my assistance. I must be ever conscious of the value of my fellow health professionals and treat them with respect at all times. My classmates at St. George's University are now my colleagues and I owe to them the same support and encouragement to achieve their goals as I hope to receive from them. I will work alongside my colleagues and professors with tolerance, compassion and honesty.

I acknowledge my obligation to adhere to the University Honor Code and to conduct myself with integrity and in an ethical manner at all times henceforth. I shall do all within my power to show in myself an example of all that is honorable and good throughout my medical career. It is a privilege to have been given the opportunity to become a physician. May I be ever conscious of that privilege and never abuse it.

-- St. George's University Professional Commitment

Greek Life at SGU

Tonight was the orientation bazaar, quite the bizarre event in its own right, officially marking the end of orientation. Tomorrow, I begin medical school with my first class, Histology, at 1pm. As I reflect on the past five days, I am in awe of how little time has past and how strong a bond I feel towards this place. I haven't even cracked open a textbook and I already feel like a medical student.

It makes me wonder--isn't this a bit odd? Shouldn't I have to prove myself in some way, say ace a quiz or successfully perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation before I can say I'm a med student? Collecting brochures from the various tents and tables of student organizations on campus was a blast, but what gives me the right to join Women in Medicine to help Grenadian teenagers finish high school or spread awareness about breast cancer? How am I qualified to run for an officer position in the Emergency Medicine Club and learn how to perform intubation techniques?

Just as I was beginning to doubt myself and walk back through the muddy puddles towards my dorm (we had one of those 3-minute downpours I had described earlier) I recognized someone who had been on my flight from Puerto Rico to Grenada walking towards the same table. It was Toga-Guy.

Okay, going off on a brief tangent here. Hold on to your hats, folks.

There were a several online articles, blogs, and Facebook groups that members of the January 2009 Entering Class joined to share tips and stories before we all headed down to Grenada. One gentlemen, whose profile picture features him wearing an orange toga, (his real name will not be used in this blog, so I will refer to him as Toga-Guy) posted many, many times, far more than necessary and therefore, became legendary--not in a good way.

Anyway, when I saw Toga-Guy speaking with the Emergency Medicine Club representatives, I started to cheer up. I thought to myself, if he thinks he can do it, then I most certainly am qualified, too. And so, I paid the $40 EC ($15 USD) for club dues and a t-shirt that reads "busting ours to save yours" across the back. It may not be true just yet, but I'm willing to bet that in a year I'll know a few tricks.

And hey, who knows? Maybe Toga-Guy and I will be lab partners in Histology.

BTV to GND

"The brightness of a new page, where everything yet can happen."


-- Rainer Maria Rilke

Hi Everyone!

I hope this post finds you safe and warm wherever you may be. I made it to Grenada and am settling in quite nicely to life here on the "Spice Isle." I live in a suite with two women, one from Hawaii and the other from Toronto, both in their second year of medical school. There was a small housing mix-up, so I will not be rooming with first-year medical students, but on a more positive note, I have a single room!

So far this week, I bought a cell phone, opened a bank account, and registered for classes. I've also toured the capital city of St. George's, bought my textbooks, and and visited a nutmeg factory. Ahh, how exciting! Later this weekend, orientation begins. Besides learning how not to fail, become an alcoholic (Grenada has three rum distillaries), or want to jump off the breath-taking (hehe) cliff that borders campus, I will take part in many social events and nerdy (cue snort) lectures.

It's been a lot of fun and I've met so many people from such interesting places! Of course, "interesting" to me means San Francisco or Atlanta, but I've even talked to a few people from as far away as and India and Singapore. I haven't met anyone from Vermont or BC yet, but I'm still holding out hope.

Let me tell you about the thing I love most about Grenada. You might think it's the sun, or the happy people, or the fancy drinks with little umbrellas. Well, you're wrong. It's the rain.

Yes, your first-grade reading skills are correct. The rain.

It was raining when my plane landed on Tuesday and every once in a while (say every 15 hours or so) it pours for about three minutes or so. Just enough to wet the pavement and leave that dewy scent in the air. After traveling for what felt like half of my life and stepping out of the plane and into a brick wall of humidity, it was sheer relief to feel a few drops falling on my head.

There's a saying here that the Grenadian people will run away from the rain, but run towards a bullet. It doesn't make much sense to me, but it's nice knowing that if Grenada doesn't have to be perfect all the time, then neither do I.

That's the update for now! It's time for me to slather on another layer of sunscreen and head out into the sun.

Lots of love,
Meg