It's curious that I've been talking about my adventures in med school a lot recently (most of my posts since August), and yet I've failed to explicitly discuss the Mask of Medicine that practically all med students, residents, and doctors wear. Unlike my other Masks, this Mask has some physical manifestations as a white coat, scrubs, and/or stethoscope.
This is a Mask that trumps all other Masks. When it's worn, next to nothing else matters. Time melts away, personal dramas are set aside, and you push through drowsiness and exhaustion - all that matters is that person in front of you. To say, "How can I help you?" or "What brings you in today?" and have a total stranger tell you some of his most intimate details of his life, to place his trust in you, how can you even dare think about anything else but that person in that very moment? All you care about, all you should care about, is helping that person the best you can. And when you do your best and you know that, you feel a distinct sense of achievement.
I'll be the first to admit I'm not the best med student in the class, book-wise. Heck, even with a 95% on one of my last exams I was still below average (or that my 82% on another exam is below the average of 89%)!! Nothing stings more than knowing that, though you've passed and actually did quite well, many many more students did better yet. But medicine is so much more than book smarts, so much more than memorizing pathways and facts. And so far I've taken consolation in that.
There are students who fail so badly at medical interviewing that you pray they decide to go into radiology or pathology, where they never have to see patients face-to-face (or at least, not much). There are students who desire to do the least amount of work possible and aim for the "lowest tier" of medicine. And there are many who scoff at evidence-based medicine (EBM) - who scoff at epidemiological study designs, biostatistics, and valuable critical thinking and analytical skills. I have a friend who feels he'll be too busy to read medical literature when he becomes a practicing doctor, saying he'll only read the abstract and the conclusions of the studies and base his judgments on that; I worry for his future patients.
And then I realize that at the heart of the Mask of Medicine is an extension and amplification of the Mask of Caring. My roommate accuses me of "thinking too much" about medicine, about the issues that we may face in the future in clinical care (then again, he's just a bum). That I think about how I can better improve how I interact with patients; about how the ability to read, interpret, and critically evaluate medical literature is more important than any amount of biochem learned throughout a single semester; about how important cultural awareness is when dealing with a population as diverse as the US; about how "unfriendly" most medical practices are to LGBT persons (mostly unintentional); and about how we can all personally improve how we conduct care - perhaps I do think too much . . . perhaps I do care too much. I'm not saying I'm the best med student to grace the clinics - far from it. If there's anything this Masks shows me, it's that I've a long long way to improve in all respects.
The Mask of Medicine is all-consuming, it often dominates the majority of my days. Medicine, as preached to me by every physician I've spoken to candidly, is more than a job. The doctors who treat medicine as "just a job" are not good doctors and are rarely happy being doctors. This Mask is an exhausting one, but often also a rewarding one.
This is a Mask that trumps all other Masks. When it's worn, next to nothing else matters. Time melts away, personal dramas are set aside, and you push through drowsiness and exhaustion - all that matters is that person in front of you. To say, "How can I help you?" or "What brings you in today?" and have a total stranger tell you some of his most intimate details of his life, to place his trust in you, how can you even dare think about anything else but that person in that very moment? All you care about, all you should care about, is helping that person the best you can. And when you do your best and you know that, you feel a distinct sense of achievement.
I'll be the first to admit I'm not the best med student in the class, book-wise. Heck, even with a 95% on one of my last exams I was still below average (or that my 82% on another exam is below the average of 89%)!! Nothing stings more than knowing that, though you've passed and actually did quite well, many many more students did better yet. But medicine is so much more than book smarts, so much more than memorizing pathways and facts. And so far I've taken consolation in that.
There are students who fail so badly at medical interviewing that you pray they decide to go into radiology or pathology, where they never have to see patients face-to-face (or at least, not much). There are students who desire to do the least amount of work possible and aim for the "lowest tier" of medicine. And there are many who scoff at evidence-based medicine (EBM) - who scoff at epidemiological study designs, biostatistics, and valuable critical thinking and analytical skills. I have a friend who feels he'll be too busy to read medical literature when he becomes a practicing doctor, saying he'll only read the abstract and the conclusions of the studies and base his judgments on that; I worry for his future patients.
And then I realize that at the heart of the Mask of Medicine is an extension and amplification of the Mask of Caring. My roommate accuses me of "thinking too much" about medicine, about the issues that we may face in the future in clinical care (then again, he's just a bum). That I think about how I can better improve how I interact with patients; about how the ability to read, interpret, and critically evaluate medical literature is more important than any amount of biochem learned throughout a single semester; about how important cultural awareness is when dealing with a population as diverse as the US; about how "unfriendly" most medical practices are to LGBT persons (mostly unintentional); and about how we can all personally improve how we conduct care - perhaps I do think too much . . . perhaps I do care too much. I'm not saying I'm the best med student to grace the clinics - far from it. If there's anything this Masks shows me, it's that I've a long long way to improve in all respects.
The Mask of Medicine is all-consuming, it often dominates the majority of my days. Medicine, as preached to me by every physician I've spoken to candidly, is more than a job. The doctors who treat medicine as "just a job" are not good doctors and are rarely happy being doctors. This Mask is an exhausting one, but often also a rewarding one.
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Last night I watched a gay-themed movie called Eating Out 3. It's a rather silly film - a bit over-the-top, but also hilarious and had some pretty hot scenes. Interestingly, all 6 of the main male characters are gay, and read an interview with them here. One of the main characters, played by Chris Salvatore, is simply gorgeous:


He's also a singer/songwriter with his own myspace and YouTube pages. I listened to some of the songs at those 2 sites, and actually liked some of them. So head over and listen to some tunes. And watch the movie if you're feeling up for a laugh and maybe a couple "awww" moments.
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