I bet you’re gonna go home and think about this… no seriously, I believe in the young doctors of this world. There’s no one who’s told them you can’t fix that yet. Young doctors are the ones who go on to become old doctors who fix things.

–Patient with a Perplexing Case

The Daringest and the Darlingest

Master Plan

(Adorableness can be found by this artist here.)

Lots of my friends registered for the USMLE Step 1 this weekend, displaying confirmatory white sheets of printer paper with some fancy 580 dollar embossed stamp. Not as uninhibited after our final exam of the first block, I’d hesitated, was hesitating, am ruminating, all in some near paralyzed fashion.

Do you dare, darling? Continue reading

Treated Never Tricked! USMLE Step 1

CandiesHoly cocoa! My inbox just burst open with the most hopeful email. And after a recent post on my school’s USMLE scare-fest, we pre-clinical kids could use some sweet words. To simply click “save” on this one would be akin to hiding away goody bags of dark chocolate from a good candy house found at the tail end of the night’s trick-or-treating!


Hey girl…

Try not to get too freaked out… it will be okay.  We both have within us what it takes to succeed, and will make it through.  A good friend of mine, a fellow patient who has endured far more than I could ever imagine (and despite her significant illnesses became a judge for patients with disabilities) Continue reading

Free Clinic Where? My Heart There

Just this Wednesday my friend told me I was confused about the community clinic schedule. While I often function in this perpetual state of absentmindedness and misreading-ness and plain not-knowing-ness, I reacted having forgotten, once more, those personality flaws–

Whadd’you mean?! I signed up to work the free clinic this Saturday! It’s my first time.

My face made a happy smile.

She winced for a half second as if mentally fact checking, No, I schedule medical students and I didn’t see you on the list for this weekend.
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Diarrhea and Mortality

Broken eggSo we’re currently studying all the ways one might die by dysentery. There’s the I-fed-my-cow-corn-and-wreaked-havoc-on-its-intestinal-flora-allowing-harmful-bacteria-to-enter-our-food-supply method. Thanks, E. coli. And there’s the I-work-in-a-nursery-with-sick-children-all-day possibility. Thanks again, E. coli. Then comes the really bad I-didn’t-completely-incinerate-my-chicken-patty way. Enter, salmonella enterica. We’re not just talking about extra trips to the bathroom or debilitating dehydration, but raging fevers and bacteria in the blood with a chance of endocarditis and cholecystitis and lots of other organ-specific-itises.
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Systolic / Diastolic

Cero. Nada. That’s what the blood pressure cuff read on Tyson Kidd… as well as on every other WWE action figure that a nine year-old boy could gather up in a bear hug. Half-an-hour prior, he had worn that same cuff, sitting, his little legs swinging. The attending physician and his mother, having just won a blood-glucose-finger-prick wrestling match, marveled at how calmly he sat. My stethoscope held within the crook of his arm, I listened for the start and end of a faint murmur. Tick, tick, tick along the pressure gauge which read one-ten over fifty. I asked if he was going to be a doctor someday. He simply grinned from ear to ear.
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