Something Further from Felicity

I am sat in my room at Newnham, looking out over picturesque lawns strewn with autumn leaves, my hair wet (after spending nearly an hour in the shower, using all the hot water, trying to rid myself of the smell of formaldehyde - more of that later), with the early evening (we're further North than you, if that seems weird) sunlight gently streaming through the remaining leaves on the branches of the tree outside my window, and a five kilogram copy of Gray's Anatomy, 40th Ed. on my lap.

It doesn't have quite the same ring to it as "I write this sitting in the kitchen sink", does it?

Anyway, scene-setting aside, I have just read Geraldine's post and would like to add, on the topic of "that's a lot of work, you know", that some of us honestly believed we knew what hard work was.  Oh, how wrong we have come to realise we were.  Not that we're (I'm) not loving it; not that we (I) have even the slightest of regrets; we (I) just think we (I) should be allowed to complain about it.  Or at least tell you all that you have no idea.

Every week, we have at least three hours of supervisions (four, if you count SCHI Seminars as a supervision, and five if you include the fact that our Anatomy supervisor is incapable of limiting himself to a mere hour).  We have two two-hour Anatomy practicals (yes, that's dissection - cutting up dead patients) at least, plus some lectures (this week, we had three.  Some weeks, it's only one).  We have 3 BioChemistry lectures, 3 Physiology lectures, up to four hours of BioChemistry practicals and a similar number of Physiology practicals in an average week, and then on top of that we have "Social Context of Health and Illness" (Sociology) and "An Introduction to the Scientific Basis of Medicine" (which we thought was the entire course, but apparently not - this is basically Epidemiology, so far).  That's about 27 hours of contact time a week (compare this with the Arts students' 4), and we're expected to spend as much time going OVER our lectures as we spend IN them.  Plus, we get essays and questions and extra reading and so on to do as well.

As I said, you have no idea.  But it is truly wonderful.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to move this book before I lose my legs to necrosis.

Felicity

Greetings from Geraldine

As a further 11th of the Newnham medics, I'd like to ask you to picture the moment that myself and my 10 fellow masochists first announced that we were going to be doctors; some of us as young girls wearing an oversized white coat and a plastic stethoscope round our necks, but some as supposedly informed teenagers (though quite possibly equally as likely to be wearing the plastic stethoscope). At this moment, we proudly proclaimed to friends, teachers or parents, 'I am going to be a doctor, because I am going to help people and cure diseases', to which the reply often was, 'That's a lot of work you know.'

Of course, we nodded along and declared that we didn't mind, and that we would just work really, really hard and become the best doctors ever, saving people with our life-giving hands and encyclopaedic knowledge of medicine.

A similar thing happened when we decided to study in Cambridge: more mentions of how much work there would be, met with assurances that we wouldn't mind at all.

And now we are finally here, and suddenly all that hard work we promised to do seems scarily real and difficult, we are haunted by the little facts that we haven't learnt that may some day cost a patient their life, and the people we were presented with as our very first patients are already dead.

I think that more than a few people sat in the lecture theatre at 9 o' clock on a Monday morning are wondering why, years and years ago, when reaching into the toy box, they couldn't have picked up a paintbrush or a book, instead of that fateful plastic stethoscope.
But then, this is just the beginning...

Hello, and Welcome

Dear Readers,

I am 1/11th of the Newnham Medics Freshers '08, and I would like to welcome you to our world.  Today half of us had our first 9-to-5 day of lectures (ouch), and so we consider ourselves fully initiated into the world of Medicine.  For the next three years (at least), our time will be spent dashing to and from lectures, practicals, supervisions, sports practices and matches, bars, clubs, pubs and other Colleges, in an attempt to have the best possible time, while also learning enough to pass our Tripos and MB exams and become your doctors of the future.

We would like to take you with us on this moderately terrifying journey.  Why?  Because, unless you too are a medic, you cannot possibly comprehend what we've let ourselves in for.  We know, because we've realised that already.  So, over the next three years, or maybe even six, or perhaps twenty, we will let you know how it's all going.

I hope you enjoy reading about what we get up to; I also really hope we enjoy doing it!

Felicity