Introduction Am I going to match? This is the question that medical students going into their 4th year ask themselves over and over, poring over every detail of themselves and their application with a fine tooth comb. Or in some cases, the big comb from Spaceballs. This post began in an airport in Lansing, Michigan (yes, who
All I do is try to make it simple, the ones that make it complicated never get congratulated – Kid Cudi Hey. You. Yes, you. The one who isn’t in the medical profession. It’sa me, Mario! More specifically, I’m a student in my fourth and final year of medical school. You’re here because you’ve
I don’t remember his name. There is so much detail surrounding those few hours, so many bits of sound, sight, and emotions that are etched into my brain. The sweat. The knot deep in my chest. The agonal breaths. The tears that I was desperately trying to hold back. And yet, his name
Photo courtesy of Reddit on /r/Baltimore “What did I get myself into?…..” These words echoed through my head, reverberating off of what must have been the empty walls of my cranial vault. That is the place where my brain should be. I’ve never head my head CT scanned, so I seriously wonder if I have
The literal “old me”, back in 8th grade with a broken collarbone from football. We were on our Washington DC trip and man was that miserable with a sling. It’s been awhile since I’ve posted something here. I’ve had about a dozen backed up blog posts that I’ve needed to write, including my experience with
I’m not okay. I didn’t think I’d be saying those words this year. I’m not okay. I think I’ve hit the bottom so hard I bounced twice. I’m not okay. This is nothing, my feelings and problems are insignificant, I have everything anyone could ever want. I’m not okay. Only days after finding out
“The only difference between what we do every day and killing someone is that we keep breathing for our patients.” – Anesthesia attending physician That’s a picture of my roommate, after he had clearly fallen asleep in my bed back in college. I was in my room on my computer for 5 full minutes before noticing
“If you want to take care of people, do medicine. If you want to fix people, do surgery.” – Cardiothoracic Surgery Resident Vascular Surgery – Eskenazi Hospital For my next rotation, it was off to Eskenazi Hospital. This is one of the three Level 1 trauma centers in Indiana, all of which are located in
“Pardon my English, I am a French” – My plastic surgery attending physician My first rotation of my third year of medical school is over. In true fashion of the last few years, it seems that the 5 weeks I spent on that rotation sat somewhere between a compressed and stretched version of the space-time continuum.
The ISTEP, the SAT, the MCAT, and now the USMLE. These are a series of acronyms that evoke a primal, almost nauseating response among those of us that have fought the gauntlet of standardized testing for the majority of our lives. It is monumental tests like this: single-day, multiple-hour, multiple-subject, and multiple headache-inducing exams that convert
Wojo's Triad 