22nd January, 2010

Being a medical student definitely has its perks. Like standing in a 9 ft * 8 ft cubicle with ten others. For two hours. With your mouth shut for most of the part. Two hours is a lot of time when

(1)All you're doing is look at eye-drops being put in one patient after the other.

(2)You see an open laptop at the doctor's desk and all you can think of is Facebook or a certain little blue birdie.

(3)You're wondering if the graduation cap comes with a micro chip that needs to be inserted somewhere into your being, because how else does the doc in front of you know absolutely everything?

(4)You have to keep shifting every three minutes in the two feet of space you have, to avoid collisions with the patients/patients' families/your classmates/little cushioned stools/interns/pissed-looking receptionists/swinging door.

(5)Your head keeps turning involuntarily, for an unbelievable number of times, in the direction of "Blah-blah eye drops. Two times a day, keeps glaucoma at bay!" that's up on the wall.

Lesson learnt: Two hours is practically a lifetime.

How you can learn it too: The hard way.

Considering my above average observational skills, I guess I could have used that time to learn about human behavior and stuff. But just looking at someone with no emotion on your face, even for a short period of time, can be perceived as retarded.

My advice: Don't do it. Your social life is at stake.

Myth: All the kids on this planet are tantrum-throwing little brats.

The test: When there are thirty over-enthusiastic, borderline aggressive medical students shining light into the eyes of an eight-year-old, in an attempt to see opacity of the posterior lens capsule and the kid doesn't protest? THAT'S when you know it's a myth.

Conclusion: All the kids on this planet are tantrum-throwing little brats. Except the amazing eight-year-old I met today.