So, we became Doctors…

The dream always existed for a longer time than one would anticipate. I for one made the decision to pursue medicine at the young age of nine. Well before I had a full idea of what that constituted. I am unsure of what drove me to the noble profession. I was unaware that I was a smart pupil, school just happened to be an easy fit for me. I guess it is what they call a calling.

Free image from Pixabay.

Fast forward, I finished my A levels with the flying colors expected of me by the medical school I so wished to enter, and as expected by my sponsors and as expected by my peers. To follow the good standard of an academic trail. In all honesty, I never expected things to turn out the way they did.

Surprisingly ten of my high school class mates applied to become doctors. This came as a shock to me in particular because only myself and a couple of others had made their career desires well publicized. It was also a marvel because it meant that in a class of about two hundred and fifty freshmen there was going to be a handful of familiar faces and voices that made the transition smoother. Making new friendships and new connections was going be well balanced with jokes and memories of the past.

The journey of medical school was filled with multiple ups and downs, extremely fun times and deep ends of sadness and sorrow, academic sorrow. Now as I look back, it was in a way smooth flowing and could be hacked but I guess you can only find a way after you are done and you are more mature.

At a point in time, I remember I now had to travel to and from school spanning a distance of twenty-three kilometers which was tiresome whether one was driving, hiking, or taking public transport. This was something I never thought I would go through in my life. I was used to convenience and ease. That year was also the same year I ended up having to write exams for the one course I actually expected to make me repeat. Turns out my expectations were too low compared to my capacity. I passed those exams.

We pushed through the tougher clinical courses and then came the one infamous final year. The year that is widely dreaded for the resulting amount of trauma.

All egos were bruised and live seeds of imposter syndrome planted. A year full of hectic timetables made the whole degree program feel like a crash course even though we were all given five and a half years.

The stresses of final year started from the volumes of content to the heated timetables, in addition to having to deal with the consultants. A completely different exam style of having to talk to patients and defending your answers with medical facts. It is just a lot, something no one can fully prepare you for.

This was the year that my ego was stripped down, shattered to pieces by a sledge hammer and then ground into dust. The system was trying to rebuild me in a shape it wanted me to be and I had little contribution or say in the process.

In my final year, I passed all but one of the four courses I was examined on: one that I thought I would pass reasonably well given the clinical cases I had worked on and my performance on previous exams. I honestly did not expect to fail it.

I had been abused more and humiliated elsewhere by renowned tough examiners. Life had weirdly different plans. At first, I was awarded a chance to write supplementary exams which I again failed and then I had to repeat the whole course. The events surrounding this season of my life we shall discuss on a different day all together.

Eventually, the results of the repeat exams came and we became doctors. It is important to let you know that at this point in time I was the only one of my groups of ten men from the same high school who was left behind.

The rest of my team had made it across the finishing line either on the first attempt or or the second before graduating while I was left behind. A difficult time of immense self-reflection filled with doubt of competency and everything I had grown up believing about myself.

In short, I had a winding and twisted path to the much-awaited destination. But after more than a decade of the hustle and bustle, I too became a doctor complaining of the disparity between the workload and the remuneration — let alone the quality of life we live.

Nevertheless, on any day I will choose the life of an intern doctor and its hardships over that of a medical student. Any day and any time. Save me a seat on the other side of the line. I love it there. We became doctors, and I want to remain one forever.