call them“ gained experiences”. �e clinical subjects presented in the 3rd year were more inviting a n d I w a s b e c o m i n g m o r e con�dent in speaking to patients, until I asked a patient“ Aap pisaab peethei hei?” instead of“ sharaab”. �e horrifying expression on his face nudged me into realization that I did not yet have the grasp of Hindi as I had previously thought. Second year presented with crowding around a tiny table trying to get a peek at the formalin �xed specimens, peeping down microscopes and drawing graphs from the contractions of the intestine of an unfortunate rabbit. It was around then that I got used to the bland food of the mess, pink and blue blotches on my white lab coat, the vast endless syllabus and my classmates whom I made friends. �en came the two years of clinical medicine. I have never been one to enjoy lectures. �e two hour long seminars were the worst. �irty �ve minutes is my personal record before the daydreaming kicks in. �e naps in the lecture theatres were something out of this world, the postprandial ones being the most re warding. Doodling, pinching myself, chewing gumsnothing seemed to keep my reticular activating system up and running. Before I knew it, professors were yelling at my face for not knowing everything science has discovered about medicine, the level of knowledge a �nal year med student must possess, apparently. It was just books, books and more books from that point onwards. Oh then, the big �nale! Nothing in life could have prepared me for the stress and immense amount of pressure I was subjected to. I drained highlighter after highlighter, my brain not able to hold the random facts I was shooting at it day in & day out. � e p r e p r o ff s w e r e a n adventure; that is all I can say about it. I gave my best in the �nal proff and cleared it, Alhamdulillah! I walked into internship with con�dence and excitement. Ready to face the game! Ready to learn everything I could from this place before I said goodbye to AIIMS. But sadly I learnt that the experience you gained varied widely on the unit you got. While in surgery, I was left observing one breast surgery after the other( if lucky enough, hold a retractor for a few hours). I was kept on top of my toes in g y n a e c o l o g y b u t o n l y i n casualty posting was I able to get my hands dirty! Nightmares of bloody cannula placements gone wrong took over my dreams, but identifying a hypoglycemic individual and literally bringing him back to life with a shot of g l u c o s e w a s s p e l l b i n d i n g. Practising CPR( unfortunately on dead ones) and pulling off gastric lavages by myself �lled me with excitement! �e big �nale to my internship was rural posting, the only place where I �nally felt like a real doctor. Even though the OPD gets repetitive and mundane from writing the same prescription over and over again( PCM, CTZ, PCM, repeat), the duties in the ward and 24 hour on-call duties in PHC keeps your adrenaline running. I would never forget that day I stood teary eyed peeping into a baby cot with a limp baby. Just like how I’ d never forget
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the day I pulled out a crying rosy cheeked baby solo. Finally I was able to understand the pride in being a doctor but also felt the crushing responsibility it brought with it. Before I knew it, it was time to leave this home and friends, strangers that I now consider family. My life packed into a suitcase and cardboard boxes, my �ve years had ended. Five years which seemed like a lifetime, �lled with joy and sorrow, fear and excitement and let`s not forget, fun. A lot of fun. Five years which I will always treasure, tell my kids about. Five years that I will never forget and would never exchange for anything this world has to offer.
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