Sleep, stay from my eyes
Quickly poring over books
Testing in the morn
Friday, January 17, 2014
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
The Grind
Is it really possible that I've only been in this new block for
three days? I already feel worn-out. I'm nowhere near information-overload, but it certainly
does not feel like I've had a two-week break. What happened to the rest and relaxation I was anticipating?
Perhaps my current state of exhaustion has less to do with school and more to do with the fact that my vacation was spent settling into the house we moved into back in August, getting my college freshmen ready for her second semester, negotiating a contract to sell my home in another state, and creating new holiday traditions with daddy out of the picture. Yeah. I think it's more that.
Good thing tomorrow is a new day.
Perhaps my current state of exhaustion has less to do with school and more to do with the fact that my vacation was spent settling into the house we moved into back in August, getting my college freshmen ready for her second semester, negotiating a contract to sell my home in another state, and creating new holiday traditions with daddy out of the picture. Yeah. I think it's more that.
Good thing tomorrow is a new day.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
All Wrapped Up with a Bow on Top
Wrapping up the first semester of medical school is a beautiful thing! The hustle-and-bustle of Christmas ain't got nothing on prepping for the end of the block. Honestly, this was my least fussed-over Christmas ever, and I kind of liked that. While shopping, a cashier would cheerfully inquire, "Are you all set for Christmas?" and I would just as cheerfully reply, "It's gonna come whether I am or not." It was good to let go of that worry. Too bad I had other things on my mind.
Our histology exam was one week before Christmas, followed by a comprehensive biochemistry, nutrition, cell biology, and histology final two days later. A friend and I spent the day before the histology exam going through the 30 lectures and discussing what we thought were the top three to five testable concepts from each one. We parted in high-spirits and I rested easy that night. It paid off! I scored in the high 80s on that test.
The first couple of hours after the histology exam felt wonderful! A final exam grade of 65 would have been sufficient for me to pass the class with the required 75. I felt confident that it was well within reach. But then something happened. I don't really know what it was, but all I could think of was how poorly I had done on the biochemistry test. I tried to engage my rational brain. I knew that there were dozens of people who did worse than I did on that first test. I also knew that it was unreasonable to think that they poured themselves into doing well in the second half of the block while simultaneously relearning everything they did not master during the first half. Of course, that rationality did not do me much good. I was a mess.
I can't really put together everything that happened on that study day between the histo exam and the final. I watched some videos, did a few practice questions, looked at high-yield study sheets, but mostly kept trying to keep myself from freaking out. It was not a pretty place to be. But good things sometimes come from being in dreary situations. I finally saw how my approach to studying was out of sync with how they teach and test in med school. Silly, isn't it, that right before my final I exclaimed, "Oh! I've been studying all the wrong stuff!" A light went on. And while I wish that light had gone on a few months ago, I'm grateful that it only took one semester of feeling intellectually beaten-up to get it. That night I went to bed realizing that it was too late for me to make much difference on the outcome of tomorrow's exam, but early enough to make a major course correction in how I approached the rest of my schooling.
And my final? I got an 89. It's easy now for me to say that my anxiety was over nothing, but I know better than that. My New Year's resolution to "do better in school" is a tad more educated with significant insight into how to make that happen. Here's hoping that I wrap up next semester with a little more sanity.
Our histology exam was one week before Christmas, followed by a comprehensive biochemistry, nutrition, cell biology, and histology final two days later. A friend and I spent the day before the histology exam going through the 30 lectures and discussing what we thought were the top three to five testable concepts from each one. We parted in high-spirits and I rested easy that night. It paid off! I scored in the high 80s on that test.
The first couple of hours after the histology exam felt wonderful! A final exam grade of 65 would have been sufficient for me to pass the class with the required 75. I felt confident that it was well within reach. But then something happened. I don't really know what it was, but all I could think of was how poorly I had done on the biochemistry test. I tried to engage my rational brain. I knew that there were dozens of people who did worse than I did on that first test. I also knew that it was unreasonable to think that they poured themselves into doing well in the second half of the block while simultaneously relearning everything they did not master during the first half. Of course, that rationality did not do me much good. I was a mess.
I can't really put together everything that happened on that study day between the histo exam and the final. I watched some videos, did a few practice questions, looked at high-yield study sheets, but mostly kept trying to keep myself from freaking out. It was not a pretty place to be. But good things sometimes come from being in dreary situations. I finally saw how my approach to studying was out of sync with how they teach and test in med school. Silly, isn't it, that right before my final I exclaimed, "Oh! I've been studying all the wrong stuff!" A light went on. And while I wish that light had gone on a few months ago, I'm grateful that it only took one semester of feeling intellectually beaten-up to get it. That night I went to bed realizing that it was too late for me to make much difference on the outcome of tomorrow's exam, but early enough to make a major course correction in how I approached the rest of my schooling.
And my final? I got an 89. It's easy now for me to say that my anxiety was over nothing, but I know better than that. My New Year's resolution to "do better in school" is a tad more educated with significant insight into how to make that happen. Here's hoping that I wrap up next semester with a little more sanity.
Monday, December 9, 2013
The End Is Nigh
In ten days I will be done with my first semester of medical school. It has been a whirlwind. Not only am I amazed at the amount of information thrown my way during the past four and a half months, I'm awestruck by the amount that has actually stuck!
Friday, November 29, 2013
Don't Panic
Do you notice the word "panic" in the title? Kind of lets you know what's on my mind. The "don't" is almost a waste of letters. "Panic" is what tends to stand out. The brain is like that sometimes; focusing in on only one thing. This week has been a great time for me to take a step back and a look at the big picture.
Eleven days ago I took my biochemistry exam. This exam covered material that was presented during a 3-week block of classes. It included everything that was covered in my semester-of-pain known as Chem 3250 (a.k.a., "biochem 1") and oh-so-much more. We had two quizzes during that 3-week period that led me to believe that I was doing ok. On test-day, however, I left the computer lab wondering if I would make it through this semester alive.
I fell far short of passing this test. It was horrible. I cried. Not so much the sobbing, out-of-control crying we women folk know from time to time, but the type of crying where you just want your tears to stay put inside your head, and they simply won't.
Let me tell you, my friends, my experience in anatomy disabused me of the existence of curved grades in med school. Invariably, there would be a couple of exam questions that were "problematic" and the block director would have the tests regraded to reflect a different answer choice. There were no across the board increases in test scores. If the correct answer was "B" and the professor later said, "Hmm. Both 'B' and 'C' could be correct answers," then only students who had answered "C" got those extra points. When my high-scoring friends told me that we'd probably get a few points back, I knew it wouldn't be enough to save me.
Then something happened one week after the exam.
Statistics.
More precisely: bimodal distribution. Ever heard of that? Think of a bell curve with a gigantic dent right where the peak should be. As a class, we either got it, or we didn't. Rumor has it that the lower end of the distribution was so low that a record number of students had no hope of passing this block even if they scored 100% on the up-coming histology exam. Least you think us to be a bunch of dummies, our class' entering stats (MCAT & GPA) were the highest on record for the school. We also scored higher on the anatomy exams relative to the class ahead of us. Changes from the curriculum department left us with less time to cover more material, and that left a lot of us hurting.
The block director allowed a regrade; that gave me an additional 3.3% (or three questions). Eh. But then he did something even more magical. He curved the grades. I am now in the land of "barely passing." I had no idea how good it would feel to be here.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving. I am infinitely thankful to be a medical student, at my medical school, with my classmates, in my new home town. My children, my sister, and three other students gathered together for dinner last night. I felt surrounded by love and support. I am awe-struck whenever I reflect on how much my life has changed in such a brief period of time. Sure, I have moments of panic, but it is short-lived compared to the happiness.
Eleven days ago I took my biochemistry exam. This exam covered material that was presented during a 3-week block of classes. It included everything that was covered in my semester-of-pain known as Chem 3250 (a.k.a., "biochem 1") and oh-so-much more. We had two quizzes during that 3-week period that led me to believe that I was doing ok. On test-day, however, I left the computer lab wondering if I would make it through this semester alive.
I fell far short of passing this test. It was horrible. I cried. Not so much the sobbing, out-of-control crying we women folk know from time to time, but the type of crying where you just want your tears to stay put inside your head, and they simply won't.
Let me tell you, my friends, my experience in anatomy disabused me of the existence of curved grades in med school. Invariably, there would be a couple of exam questions that were "problematic" and the block director would have the tests regraded to reflect a different answer choice. There were no across the board increases in test scores. If the correct answer was "B" and the professor later said, "Hmm. Both 'B' and 'C' could be correct answers," then only students who had answered "C" got those extra points. When my high-scoring friends told me that we'd probably get a few points back, I knew it wouldn't be enough to save me.
Then something happened one week after the exam.
Statistics.
More precisely: bimodal distribution. Ever heard of that? Think of a bell curve with a gigantic dent right where the peak should be. As a class, we either got it, or we didn't. Rumor has it that the lower end of the distribution was so low that a record number of students had no hope of passing this block even if they scored 100% on the up-coming histology exam. Least you think us to be a bunch of dummies, our class' entering stats (MCAT & GPA) were the highest on record for the school. We also scored higher on the anatomy exams relative to the class ahead of us. Changes from the curriculum department left us with less time to cover more material, and that left a lot of us hurting.
The block director allowed a regrade; that gave me an additional 3.3% (or three questions). Eh. But then he did something even more magical. He curved the grades. I am now in the land of "barely passing." I had no idea how good it would feel to be here.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving. I am infinitely thankful to be a medical student, at my medical school, with my classmates, in my new home town. My children, my sister, and three other students gathered together for dinner last night. I felt surrounded by love and support. I am awe-struck whenever I reflect on how much my life has changed in such a brief period of time. Sure, I have moments of panic, but it is short-lived compared to the happiness.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Life, Love, and Letting Go
A few months ago, a physician's wife told a group of married students, "Half of you will be divorced before residency is over." Most of the people at the table looked appalled that she would say such a thing. I just shrugged my shoulders. I knew that was me.
Let me start off by saying that medical school did not cause my marriage to fall apart. I did not become consumed with the magic of medicine, letting all else in my personal life fall by the wayside. I was, in essence, presented with a choice between my marriage and medicine, and I chose me. Medicine isn't the metaphorical "mistress" breaking up my marriage. Treating it as such ignores the fundamental flaws in my relationship with my husband. Medical school is a stressful time. A healthy relationship will be able to withstand the stress. As I've said before, you can find balance as a medical student, but things that are wildly out-of-balance will become even more-so.
Examining the lack of balance in this most intimate of relationships is uncomfortable. There were multiple start-and-stops on my path to medical school over the past five years as my husband professed his support while his actions said otherwise. In the conversation we had before he moved out of the house, he discussed his feelings of resentment over moving to this new town for "no reason." (Yes, my kids are our kids.)
I've had my moments of sadness and regret--sadness that we couldn't resolve our differences and regret that I stayed with him so long. My kids are sad, too, but they aren't dummies. They know that their dad and I have divergent worldviews. We've separated before, including the first month of anatomy when he was working in a different city. They missed him then because he was over 800 miles away. Now they just miss him.
I believe, dear readers, that I'm not the only person in a situation like this: Someone who dreamed of doing something big, but had her life tied to a person who felt that following dreams is selfish and fool-hearty. I believe we all have moments of clarity and vision. I had a strong premonition 18 months ago that if I were to become a doctor, my marriage would end. I thought we would probably split when I was in residency and our youngest child was in high school. Months ago, I found myself wondering if I wanted to legally change my name back to my maiden name before I graduated, even if we were still married. I suppose you could say it felt somewhat inevitable to me.
No, I don't think I am living a self-fulfilling prophecy. I simply think I knew my husband well enough to know that the likelihood of the experience being shared between us (as in "we're in this together") would be slim to none. That feeling played a large part in my backing off from MCAT prep as I "tried on" the notion of not going to medical school. Then I got my MCAT scores and realized how incredibly badly I wanted this. "This" wasn't just medical school. It was so much more. It is so much more.
Let me start off by saying that medical school did not cause my marriage to fall apart. I did not become consumed with the magic of medicine, letting all else in my personal life fall by the wayside. I was, in essence, presented with a choice between my marriage and medicine, and I chose me. Medicine isn't the metaphorical "mistress" breaking up my marriage. Treating it as such ignores the fundamental flaws in my relationship with my husband. Medical school is a stressful time. A healthy relationship will be able to withstand the stress. As I've said before, you can find balance as a medical student, but things that are wildly out-of-balance will become even more-so.
Examining the lack of balance in this most intimate of relationships is uncomfortable. There were multiple start-and-stops on my path to medical school over the past five years as my husband professed his support while his actions said otherwise. In the conversation we had before he moved out of the house, he discussed his feelings of resentment over moving to this new town for "no reason." (Yes, my kids are our kids.)
I've had my moments of sadness and regret--sadness that we couldn't resolve our differences and regret that I stayed with him so long. My kids are sad, too, but they aren't dummies. They know that their dad and I have divergent worldviews. We've separated before, including the first month of anatomy when he was working in a different city. They missed him then because he was over 800 miles away. Now they just miss him.
I believe, dear readers, that I'm not the only person in a situation like this: Someone who dreamed of doing something big, but had her life tied to a person who felt that following dreams is selfish and fool-hearty. I believe we all have moments of clarity and vision. I had a strong premonition 18 months ago that if I were to become a doctor, my marriage would end. I thought we would probably split when I was in residency and our youngest child was in high school. Months ago, I found myself wondering if I wanted to legally change my name back to my maiden name before I graduated, even if we were still married. I suppose you could say it felt somewhat inevitable to me.
No, I don't think I am living a self-fulfilling prophecy. I simply think I knew my husband well enough to know that the likelihood of the experience being shared between us (as in "we're in this together") would be slim to none. That feeling played a large part in my backing off from MCAT prep as I "tried on" the notion of not going to medical school. Then I got my MCAT scores and realized how incredibly badly I wanted this. "This" wasn't just medical school. It was so much more. It is so much more.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Happy Medium
Last night I was chatting with a classmate who told me he was worried about grades in classes that we haven't even begun. To this, I laughed.
I really do believe that every one of us in medical school has something to prove. Of course, what that "something" is varies widely. Making it through is a challenge, and no one would do it without some kind of internal drive. That drive has pushed us to the top of our undergraduate classes and being high-performers can make us--collectively--quite unbalanced.
Another one of my classmates let me in on his master gameplan. He has been scrubbing in at surgeries to shadow in the OR and has already begun working on a research project. He's young, incredibly bright, and has very few other commitments in his life. What he is doing is working for him as he preps for an extremely competitive residency. As his friend, my only hope is that he doesn't burn out.
Medical school is not impossible, but it really is an excellent venue for someone to go completely insane. You can push yourself as hard as you can imagine, and still feel like it isn't hard enough. For instance, in the past two weeks, we have had lectures that covered all of the material in the biochemistry class I took last year. There is no way I will know everything that my professors have taught (or, more precisely, included in their PowerPoints), but I have plenty of friends that are currently trying their damnedest to do exactly that. Trying to achieve the improbable just isn't my style.
My experience in anatomy was a terrific exercise in balance. I studied, but I also lived my life. At the end of the block, I took the national "shelf" exam for anatomy. Our scores told us how we ranked nationally. Statistically, my performace in anatomy was average. The thought of being "average"--even when the comparison group is current US medical students--was devastating for some of my friends. I don't mean to come across as apathetic, because, believe me, I'm not. I didn't pack up my life just to fail. I just know that there are other areas of my life where "average" won't cut it and failure will cost too much.
My kids are my everything and they only have one shot at this childhood thing. I wasn't home as often as I liked during anatomy, but I tried to make myself as available as possible and connect with the people I love. This is hard to do when you feel the stress of an impending exam! I warned them that with a major test a week away, I might be leaning a bit towards crazy. They are beginning to get the hang of it, and they are doing quite well. Last night, we roasted marshmallows and ate s'mores in our backyard. My 13-year-old turned to me and said, "You...are...incredible! I love you, Mom." Yeah, I will gladly take "med school average" in exchange for that any day.
I really do believe that every one of us in medical school has something to prove. Of course, what that "something" is varies widely. Making it through is a challenge, and no one would do it without some kind of internal drive. That drive has pushed us to the top of our undergraduate classes and being high-performers can make us--collectively--quite unbalanced.
Another one of my classmates let me in on his master gameplan. He has been scrubbing in at surgeries to shadow in the OR and has already begun working on a research project. He's young, incredibly bright, and has very few other commitments in his life. What he is doing is working for him as he preps for an extremely competitive residency. As his friend, my only hope is that he doesn't burn out.
Medical school is not impossible, but it really is an excellent venue for someone to go completely insane. You can push yourself as hard as you can imagine, and still feel like it isn't hard enough. For instance, in the past two weeks, we have had lectures that covered all of the material in the biochemistry class I took last year. There is no way I will know everything that my professors have taught (or, more precisely, included in their PowerPoints), but I have plenty of friends that are currently trying their damnedest to do exactly that. Trying to achieve the improbable just isn't my style.
My experience in anatomy was a terrific exercise in balance. I studied, but I also lived my life. At the end of the block, I took the national "shelf" exam for anatomy. Our scores told us how we ranked nationally. Statistically, my performace in anatomy was average. The thought of being "average"--even when the comparison group is current US medical students--was devastating for some of my friends. I don't mean to come across as apathetic, because, believe me, I'm not. I didn't pack up my life just to fail. I just know that there are other areas of my life where "average" won't cut it and failure will cost too much.
My kids are my everything and they only have one shot at this childhood thing. I wasn't home as often as I liked during anatomy, but I tried to make myself as available as possible and connect with the people I love. This is hard to do when you feel the stress of an impending exam! I warned them that with a major test a week away, I might be leaning a bit towards crazy. They are beginning to get the hang of it, and they are doing quite well. Last night, we roasted marshmallows and ate s'mores in our backyard. My 13-year-old turned to me and said, "You...are...incredible! I love you, Mom." Yeah, I will gladly take "med school average" in exchange for that any day.
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