The second year at medical school is slow and dull and dry. The reasons is mainly because by then you realise that you are not even close to becoming what you imagined yourself as a doctor, and also the subjects in second year are so dry that all you see are books, books and more books.
You study about the pathology of diseases, which you are going to see later , about microbes causing them, and drugs which you will get to use in the future if you pass the subjects. The only interesting subject in second year is forensic medicine, which partly makes you feel like a detective from the telivision serial “CID”.
Somehow you manage to cram all that useful information and step into the third year where now you are allowed somewhere near a patient. But for all your ‘beginning to feel like a doctor phase’ there is a senior colleague who thinks you are only getting in the way of his work. You are anyway the lowest in the food chain of medical school and are either eaten up raw in your bedside clinical postings by whoever can get his hands on you or are unceremoniously shooed away.
But you have to brave all these terrors and stand patiently in the wards observing , absorbing and learning all you can, from whoever is willing to teach, including the paramedical staff on duty who definitely know more than you at this stage. And then everyday sit down with your books and correlate and assimilate all you learnt to make some sense.
Many Years ago, in England, there was a father-and-son pair who were doctors. The father was very famous & innovative, & the son was young & enthusiastic. In those days there was no concept of anesthesia & whenever a patient was to be operated on, chloroform was given.
The father performed several experiments & was convinced by adding different chemicals that his medicine was effective. But there was one problem. No one would offer himself for the experiment. Without experimenting on a human being this medicine could not be officially released in the market.
Now, the doctor’s son had sixfingers on his left hand. One day,
There are not many reasons that drive a person to become a doctor. And most of the time they cannot figure out why they want to be doctors. I mean, why would someone want to spend the prime years of their life drowned in books, forget what the world outside looks like while they sit for 18-20 hours a day trying to pass their exams and not know when their education will be somewhat complete (for a doctor studying really never ends) so that they can start earning some money to sustain themselves and buy some more books to study? Why would someone want to spend the rest of their lives not being able to enjoy simple things like a sit down meal at mealtime or a whole night of undisturbed sleep or earn the wrath of their families for not being there for them most of the time?
This is not an exaggeration. To be able to reach a level where a doctor