Editor: Idew Wokefield

BMedSci Insight

New research by medical students determined the optimal free food to faculty disciplinary meeting ratio. The non-blinded non-randomised ‘randomised control trial’ was held over 8 weeks and involved a cohort of 100 third year medical student participants at [De-identified] Hospital. Participants were given the choice to grab a slice of pizza, fruit or ‘whatever they could get their hands on’ from a ward meeting or conference. In total the experimental group had participants ranging from obtaining 1 slice of pizza a week to 2 whole pizzas, 3 sandwiches and a slice of garlic bread. Side effects experienced by the experimental group included 5 participants forced into a research paper seminar, 6 roasted by consultants and 12 experiencing faculty disciplinary meetings. Side effects experienced by the control group included 20 experiencing FOMO for missing free food and 1 unfortunate participant that was roasted by an intern for standing within 1 metre of a tray of chicken nuggies. The results show that there is an exponential relationship between ‘amount of food obtained’ and ‘number of faculty disciplinary meetings’ but there were a few outliers from the experimental group that had escaped the notice of faculty. Comparing ‘number of faculty disciplinary meetings’ against ‘general wellbeing/ number of nights drunk, there was no correlation. Therefore, the results of the experiment can be summed up by the words of one participant, ‘Faculty disciplinary meetings are a small price to pay when you get provided three meals a day at the hospital’. Shortly after the statement, he was expelled from the hospital after ‘accidentally’ eating the Clinical School Dean’s lunch.

[De-identified] Hospital In-focus

A new report has found [De-identified] Hospital productivity has decreased by 50% after the introduction of PebblePad. We have an exclusive breakdown of the situation from one doctor that did not want to be named, ‘It was 12pm and I had just finished up the ward round when I was accosted by a gang of medical students after a cannula. After multiple successful attempts of acupuncture and one successful cannula, I was getting ready to head off to lunch when they pulled out their phones on me. I waited through my lunch break, my unit meeting and a MET call for the students to get PebblePad ready and in my haste, I accidently closed the browser. I left the hospital in the dark that day’. An emergency hospital executive meeting was called to discuss how to deal with the threat of increasing use of Pebblepad by medical students. The most popular agreed option was the ‘pretend they don’t exist’ solution which is practised by 20% of doctors and 80% of neurosurgeons. This option is also known as the ‘neurosurgery triad’ where medical students are never spoken to, looked at or acknowledged to exist. Other solutions discussed included the expulsion of all medical students including students that have never used Pebblepad and the introduction of ‘Safe Pebblepad Use Rooms’ where Pebblepad use by medical students is supervised.

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If you are a writer, fan, hater or corporate lawyer for [De-identified] Hospital, please send your ideas, money, hate mail or cease and desist letter to xxx1.spam.1xxx@gmail.com!

 

In the months of my final year of school, the question of ‘Why’, of ‘Why medicine’ occupied my mind with an almost irritating intensity. I was in two minds regarding this question, seeing it as both deeply important and as yet another obstacle during that frenetic period, something for which an appropriately polished response had to be crafted. From the paranoid searching on annoyingly cheery sites with titles such as ‘What med schools love to see in applicants?’ to a final medentry ‘workshop’ before the impending interview, I’d formed a rigid notion of what the ideal reasons ought to be. Perhaps mistakenly, although I would say not uniquely, medicine seemed akin to a fortress of sorts, to which admission was reserved for the near saintly, those of faultless moral character, to those fuelled by purely unselfish motives, in short to those among us for whom this was a vocation, an intense, abiding calling.

 

In the face of these rarefied ideals, I felt the sharp sting of unworthiness, the feeling that I was an alloy of jostling motivations that couldn’t possibly be allowed entry. As I look back now, I think that arriving at the decision to really pursue medicine was, at least in the beginning more of a process of subtraction and elimination rather than one arising out of a deep-seated conviction. I knew what subjects I enjoyed and tended to do well in, and those, to put it charitably, in which my aptitude left a little to be desired. Considering this, I knew I had little interest in pursuing a math heavy field such as engineering or something similar. My passions and perhaps just as importantly, my strengths (I hope your eyes haven’t just glazed over) resided in the bio-chemical domain, in that ‘soft machine’ of the human body. It was this fascination, part scientific and part motivated by a certain paranoia about the inevitable propensity of cogs within this machine to malfunction that impelled me, to commit to the path of medicine. However, this interest was the original impetus, by choosing medicine, I wanted this nascent passion to intersect with humanity. To use the little knowledge I had or perhaps I should say still have, and build upon it, in hopes that ultimately it may be of some use to someone, that it may ease their suffering or sickness, in hopes that perhaps it may make – and I use this well-worn phrase unashamedly- a difference.

 

However, this doesn’t represent my motivations in their entirety, it would be wrong of me to cut out the less lofty reasons for my decision; in this case let us not separate the wheat from the chaff. To admit that one might in some small part be driven by the likelihood of a monetarily rewarding profession (eventually) or by the prospect of healthy career options, although after an ominous lecture concerning the internship crisis I am not so sure, was close to profane. Yet I recognise motivations such as these along with a subtle familial encouragement did play a role, a junior one but a role nonetheless and I would venture to say that these more material considerations may have in part influenced others too, at least judging by the number of biomedical memes we make. However, I don’t mean this as criticism, we as medical students or as prospective medical students do not live in a vacuum. Instead we’re shaped by the environment around us, by familial expectations: hopes that their children might enter a few select professions are so common in certain families, perhaps in some of those from a migrant background that they border on sociological phenomenon, by professional aspirations, by financial prospects, these can all seep into us via a sort of osmosis as we decide what it is we want to do with our lives.

 

Yes, it’s true that being solely or largely motivated by more worldly reasons, those of security or prosperity would be unwise in the long term as the path to and of medicine is lengthy one. A path of training followed by more training, of assessments succeeded by more assessments, in short, one of ultimate deferred gratification and if someone doesn’t feel a degree of passion for the material and its application in aiding others in their time of need then they’re at risk of deep dissatisfaction. A worrying prospect for both the individual and especially their patients.  However, I maintain to ask that we completely void ourselves of those prior concerns is requiring, in my opinion, the impossible. It is asking us to be a little more than human.

 

On a final note, I would add that although I still hold the core of those same motivations, I did prior to beginning medicine, in the months since then, something else has been added into that original foundation. Through seeing and interacting with patients if only in a rather limited capacity, I am at times filled with a terrible, and I don’t mean that in the pejorative, sense of responsibility at what will be expected of me in the future. That I will be privy to individuals at their most vulnerable, through sickness and malady and that they will place a dizzying amount of trust in my and the profession’s ability to steer them through their illness. It is the knowledge that at this moment there are people, some well and some ill, some young and some old and some who are as yet unborn, none of whom are known to me but whose paths may one day cross with mine that impels me to continue. It may be a brief encounter or a more prolonged liaison, however in that time I will have to honour and live up to the trust that has been placed upon me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have a body that was ideally designed for sitting on the couch. My legs are not all that long, my reflexes are subpar, my cardiovascular capacity is below average, and my muscles are equivalent to Steve Rogers’ prior to his Captain America transformation. Physical education classes at high school consistently resulted in my lowest grades. By Year 11 they had become more of an occasion to gossip with friends, rather than engage in ‘sport.’ So, it’s really by some sort of miracle that I stumbled upon an exercise regime that works for me – and yes, it actually does involve moving.

 

For me the key to starting to enjoy exercise was to completely change my attitude towards it. Sport and exercise have typically been something I was not naturally adept at, and thus typically avoided (subsequent to the fear of failure so often present in perfectionist medical students). My fear of failure had to be overcome. I started viewing the mere attempt to exercise as success. If I was aiming to run five kilometres but only made it to the corner of my block, then I congratulated myself on at least leaving the house in my activewear. My perspective on sport and exercise evolved. I realise now that the only prerequisite to exercise is to move your body – no actual skill or talent is required.

 

After coming to the revelation that yes, we can all in fact exercise, I have gained a few more insights into physical activity.

 

Firstly, exercise is integral to maintaining my mental wellbeing. While many had told me of the benefits of endorphins and the mythical ‘runner’s high,’ I started believing that they weren’t talking rubbish when I regularly started exercising myself. Or more accurately, I realised it when I stopped exercising regularly. An injury had halted my routine for a couple of weeks. Soon enough, my weekly running mileage was being made up for by anxious thoughts running through my head, rather than my feet striking the pavement. Furthermore, it was noted that I was more consistently in a bad mood. I felt wound up and on edge, with an excess of energy manifesting itself through unproductive emotions. As soon as I recommenced exercise this all went away. It was then I realised I needed to exercise to stay sane.

 

Furthermore, exercise provides the perfect opportunity to create a sense of achievement. Since starting medical school, I have found that I more often feel I am sinking under the course content, struggling to keep abreast with the fire hydrant that is medicine. Instead, I have started setting physical goals such as running a certain distance or going to the gym a certain number of days a week. When I achieve these goals, it gives me a meaningful sense of satisfaction that feeds into and nourishes the academic aspect of my life.

 

Finally, starting to exercise has helped me appreciate the importance of taking care of my body and my health. At times, I think we can take our health for granted. I, at least, didn’t realise the strength of the human body, and its incredible ability to adapt to new activities. This is what makes exercise and sport so enjoyable, and this is what can be easily taken away with sickness and ill health. So, beginning exercise has emphasised to me the importance of taking care of my body, to ensure that it can perform to the best of its ability.

 

I can’t pinpoint a reason why I decided to get my body off of the couch and force it to do physical activity, but I am incredibly glad I did. I have learnt about the strength of the human body, the link between physical and mental health, and how one can find a sense of achievement outside of their normal activities. So, while not everyone has the perfect athlete’s physique, I certainly cannot claim to, I believe the benefits and lessons one can learn from physical activity and sports are far deeper and richer than what we may imagine at first glance.