Eggs and Jams

I have to wear my glasses all the time now. All the reading I do gives me headaches. Which automatically implies that I am doing a lot of reading, but no, that would be untrue. I try to get a lot of work done, and end up watching TV with the Bailey, the Love of life, on my tummy to make me feel the 'weight' of my actions. And also give me mesenteric ischaemia, but don't you worry about that.

Now, some of you might remember how I had exams a few weeks ago, and how, we got the wrong question paper on one of them, but had to take the exam anyway. I figured this happened because the department screwed up, but nope, the University screws up, too. The same thing happened during the final exams at one of the medical colleges in Kerala (says the Malayala Manoharama, which is better off being rolled up for use in your toilet than being read). But they cancelled the exam, so it was not quite as bad as our situation.

Anyway, the results of that caper are out, and well, I managed to do quite well. From this episode, I have learnt a valuable lesson, not to study for exams. All the ones I work my rear off for earn me the bare minimum, but the one I did not read for gives me stellar marks. Our education system is funny.

Speaking of the education system, I believe the country is going to the dogs, with the class X board exams about to be made optional. I understand the bit about the pressure on students and families, having gone through it myself, multiple times, with the boards and the entrance, but hoo boy, those were nothing compared to what I am going through now. And that is just my personal life. I am just glad I had the practice.

I just recovered from yet another respiratory infection. My lungs were probably bored with oxygenating my blood, day in and day out. They made a heroic bid for escape, but the antibiotics (for which I paid through the nose) and the cough medication made them change their mind. Drug companies should start offering me discounts, I am their best customer in this area.

Our teachers are on strike, hopefully, this will end before our exams. The sooner they begin, the sooner they get over, and the sooner I am free. Exams kill my appetite, ulcerate large areas of the epithelial lining of my mouth, and make me lose my hair in clumps (with a small contribution from my side, by tearing them out whenever I go crazy, which is often).

For those who like their mouths full of words, here is what I was reading: Membranoproliferative Glomerulonephitis.

It looks pretty, but does dastardly things to your kidney.

All right, the break took longer than I expected, and I need to go to the library today, to read some Orthopaedics with my friend Eli.

As they say in mangled Italian, chow!

TTFN, Exams!

So my internal exams are done with, and I have no need to set foot in college for another month. Which should make me sad, but, for some reason, I am glad. I badly need a break. I am sick of studying.

My final exams start next month, and my study holidays have begun. But I need to relax for a while before I attack my books once again. And while I'm off doing that, you guys take a look at some random pcitures on hard drive.

The surgeons' best friend, the haemostat, affectionately referred to as the artery forceps

My hand

A pretty bug

The beach in the rain

A pond. Really.

Some railway station

The view

The bane of my existence

I haven't been feeling entirely sane these last few weeks. Can you tell?

These Exams Are Killing Me (In More Ways Than One)

Some day, I will figure out the secret of not whining about how medicos have exams all the time. That will be the day I get a certificate saying that Dr. Adorable Pancreas is now a real doctor and look, she has a D.M. to prove it. Since you need an M.D. before getting a D.M., and they do not hand out M.D's to people who are not even M.B.,B.S. doctors, you will have to wait for about a decade for that.

*sigh*

The last few days have been very difficult. I have not seen my Dad in more than 365 days. At any rate, not in the flesh. He must miss me at least as much as I miss him, because every other day, we get together in my dreams to argue, and have Mom intervene only to have us both toss her out and continue to yell at each other. Just like old times.

The practical exams have started. These are just like the finals, only all the examiners are our own teachers.

For those of you who have not been following me on Twitter, this is what happened to me on my Ob-G exam. (Was that too obvious? Nah, subtlety is my middle name.)

Oh, remember Ob-G? My favourite subject? The blood and amniotic fluid fest? The sleepless nights in the labour room? Well, they conducted an exam. I get two patients, one pregnant (Ob), one *gasp* not pregnant (Gyn).

(If I had to see that, so did you. You are welcome. And I am guessing he really is pregnant. Dr. Google said so.)

I was getting the pregnant patient's history. You know, whether she had any bleeding (blood) or leaking (amniotic fluid), whether she drinks like a fish or smokes like a chimney, whether her grandfather had ingrowing toenails or not, the usual stuff. After a while, I noticed that she was acting oddly. She winced every time I asked her a question! Now, normally, people wince after I answer their questions, so I found this behaviour quite unusual.

Well, folks, on questioning her, she had these 'tummy aches that appeared on and off every few minutes' which was probably 'her breakfast, it tasted funny' and it was 'nothing'. Long story short, she was in labour, getting regular contractions. We packed her off to the labour room. And to all those smart alecks who might accuse me of worrying her to the point that she went into labour, she had had the pain for a few hours already, but 'the idli worsened it'. I do not blame her for that, those idlis are potent. It's our secret weapon which we will unleash on an unsuspecting enemy in the next war.

The Gyn patient, she was fun. She was admitted in a Gynaecology ward for 'aching knees'. Her friendly neighbourhood doctor had ordered an abdominal scan (WHY?) when she showed him her knee, and found a fibroid in her uterus. Don't try to make sense of this, I merely made up her history from scratch. Because that is the kind of amazing brain I have.

During my case presentation, I mentioned in passing that the patient's breasts and thyroid gland were normal, and the examiner grilled for an hour about the 'causes of galactorrhoea in pregnancy'. This is pretty technical, so I will not bore you with the details, but she got me to establish that milk secretion during pregnancy can even kill the foetus. Yes, it sounded absurd to me, too, but it's true.

We have to identify surgical specimens pickled in glass bottles, just like the good ol' days in Pathology. I was the lucky recipent of a specimen I had never before seen in a human being. Small wonder, because it was an inverted uterus.

I am pretty sure that the Universe hates me. Well, it has plenty of ammo left, the exams are not yet done with me.

I Wanted A Thesaurus During My Exam

I have exams now.

No, not my finals.

These are internals, but they are like the finals. So that we get a feel of things, and all.

First up was Internal Medicine.

You know, the toughest subject there is. It's quite a handful (the smallest textbook has 1500 pages), and most people who do not clear final year attribute it to Medicine. So it's very important.

I like to think that I know my basics well (this just might be my imagination at work), but for an exam, it's not enough. You need to be topic oriented, and to be able to memorise a lot of points to core well. The grading of lupus nephritis, the extra articular manifestations of ankylosing spondylitis, the complications of, oh, I don't know, something with a suitably impressive name? Like Cerebral Autosomal Dominant Arteriopathy with Subcortical Infarcts and Leukoencephalopathy? Things my brain could retain for 24 hours, max. So I tend to study the most the day before an exam, like a lot of my friends.


We have two papers in Medicine. One about all the general stuff (infections, intensive care, immune disorders, stuff like that) and diseases of the respiratory system. And the other one is all about the cool aspects (cardiology, neurology, nephrology, gastroenterology, etc.).

And you know what happens for the first exam? They gave out the wrong question paper. I got punched in the face by pulmonology when I was filled to the brim with the causes of seizures in the elderly.

The invigilators were very reassuring.
"You have been learning Medicine for five years. Stop talking and start writing."

I was livid. Which is how I almost ended up becoming explicit in my answer paper.

"...and eventually, the thermoregulatory mechanisms of the body get fucked up, and the patient develops..."

I was also scared, which is why I wasted two whole minutes thinking of a more suitable, medical sounding alternative for fucked up. Other than screwed up. Or messed up.

A lot of my answers can be attributed to my being an exponent in the art form known as dummy idal. The term is derived from a Mallu movie from the 80s, where the 'CIDs' would drop a dummy from the roof, no matter how the victim died. (One of my favourite movies, ever!)

No matter what the question is about, we write about the things we know. So I wrote pages on fulminant hepatic failure when asked about Paracetamol poisoning (which is one of the causes for FHF), about Lambert-Easton myasthenic syndrome for the non-metastatic manifestations of bronchial carcinoma, the causes for splenomegaly since I did not know much about tropical splenomegaly... You get the idea.

I had worked rather hard for the exam, and having it all go waste killed something inside me, and the next exam (which was about FHF et al) went down the drain, too.

Two down, five more to go.

Zero

My classes are over.

Exams start next week.

These are internal exams, but they count.

I need to get a certificate saying I have no outstanding dues in any department. Now that I have it, I thought I would embark on vandalising spree. Then I realised, the beds are broken, there are no lights, the fans do not work (and neither do half the nurses, but that's another story), I can't break any of the instruments because they are already, you guessed it, broken. Welcome to chaos a government hospital.

I am going to miss this crap.


That is the college, not the hospital.


That is from the hospital.

:'(

One

The final week of my final year. The week I will remember for the rest of my life. And I can do nothing but worry about my Medicine end of posting exam later this week. And the freaking practical record. As a result of these foreseen circumstances, you are going to suffer. Or have your prayers answered. Depends on the way you look at it. This is a very brief post. No, not pictures of underwear. Sorry, Google searchers, nothing to see here, move along.


That's us.

Two

Two. Rhymes with boohoo. Two weeks before I bid goodbye to classes. I am too busy with the stupid practical record to care.

We went to Kodaikanal, Mysore and Coorg in our third year. That was when The A tried to drown herself in the Cauvery. Third year, that was so much fun. The honeymoon of our undergraduate life. You guys take a look at the picture while I reminisce.

Everybody who goes to Mysore goes to this place, and gets their pictures taken with the monks. We got the monks to take our picture. There we are, squinting at the sun.

Mysore zoo was where I had a crow do its thing on the tip of my finger. The exact tip. Of my finger. That I'd just lifted to point out an ape. Shitty timing, the crow had.


We all agreed that African elephants are larger, and have bigger tusks, and that's all very well, but Indian elephants are smarter and more beautiful.


A friend had a weird encounter at a market in Mysore. One of the vendors recognised him as a Mallu (do we wear a sign on our foreheads? How do they know?) and wanted to know if Mallu men were generally, get this, gay! Where do people get such notions from? How can we have a population problem if our men are gay? Maybe that is the answer to our troubles.

Here is a picture of the Cauvery.


See how I cleverly left out the river in the picture? I am amazing. In reality, this is some place called Nisargadhama, which boasts of many kinds of entertainment for tourists, including a toilet that smells of fresh flowers. And old urine.

We had so much fun (this is getting boring, innit?). I will not bore you with the details of the one other trip I went on, you can read it here if you feel so inclined. It's got lots of pictures and less of my writing, so that is one point in favour all of you clicking here and leaving me to my tragic life.