Wanted: One Muse...

We got our results on Wednesday. I didn’t fail. Which I suppose it a good thing. Suppose. I almost did. If it wasn’t for anatomy I would have failed two of the modules. I don’t understand how there was a 40% difference in some cases between my non-anatomy and my anatomy marks. All I can say is that the Anatomy Colouring Book is a god-send.

I should just be grateful but I’m not. I could have done better. Forget the fact that I revised almost every day of the holidays; in some way I could have, should have, done better. Oh well, let’s just forget the dream about graduating with honours. I shouldn’t care. I should just be happy.

You can probably see that I didn’t take it too well. Let’s just say it involved chocolate cake and cream. And the inevitable guilt that followed.

Forgetting about results now – I’ve been in a really weird mood for the past week. Down and depressed. Empty. Mostly empty. We’ve had so many 6 o clock finishes that I swear I haven’t seen the sun in weeks. I just feel like I’m drifting, which is weird considering the goal is to graduate. I can’t seem to shake it. It didn’t help that Thursday (GP day) was just a ball of loony. Everything was weird and got weirder from the taxi driver who sounded like that Indian Pirate Lord from Pirates of the Caribbean to the point when my friend said yes and I swear down on my life she said no (you kind of had to be there). Last night was good. So was this morning. I went on an expedition to find a newsagent that sells the Times (can you believe the shop downstairs sell the Sun but not the Times!) Then I spent four hours on one anatomy session prep (shoulder and pectoral girdle – oh the joy. Not). And now it’s back.

I really want to write. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling like this. But I can’t. One – no ideas. Actually, there is an idea. But I can’t get it down. And part of me doesn’t want to because I know it’s going to be just as embarrassing as the other “book” I wrote. And then there’s the other idea that can’t seem to take off. I don’t care if it’s even a stupid fanfiction story. I just need to write. Please. Something. Anything. There was a point two and three but they sort of already got covered...



Wow, reading back - this has been one self-absorbed post full of in jokes that you aren’t going to get because duh, you don’t know me.

Maybe next week will be better.

Drowning in a tub of anatomy flavoured treacle...

So we finished exams the first day back. And for that I am eternally grateful. I can't imagine having endless weeks of the things, like some unis. The only problem is that since that blessed Monday (at 3:30 to be exact) it's been nonstop. Seriously. It feels like I haven't even had a chance to breathe. Going to Tesco on Saturday was the highlight of the fortnight. And then I immediately felt guilty because I should have spent that 2 hour field trip doing work. We have about four essays due in over the next few months (a lot for a medic). I have one due in on Thursday that I haven’t done yet. And for that to be sufficiently shocking you have to realise that I’m a geeky goody-two-shoes who always gets everything done at least a week (alright, at least a week-end) in advance. I’m planning on doing it on Wednesday afternoon.

And then there’s the anatomy. I kind of like anatomy. In some ways it’s easier to learn than physiology and it’s wayyyyyy better than histology. But in the past 2 weeks we’ve had 9 anatomy sessions. Nine. That’s like a two fold increase on last year. One of our modules is pretty much just learning every bone/muscle/tendon/ligament/joint in the body. It wouldn’t be so bad but the prep reading (and for me, geek as always, note taking) takes hours. Hours. HOURS!!! And it’s boring. I’ve taken to playing videos on I-player or youtube on my laptop whilst I write to try and make it a little more enjoyable. But I can’t watch something new otherwise I get distracted. And I find it hard to find programmes considering I’ve exhausted almost everything I can think of. I've watched every episode of every series of 5 Disney Original series. Next thing you know I’ve just spent forty minutes scouring the web looking for something that fits all my criteria. Bad times.

Little things are getting me excited now. It’s the same for all medics at my uni. Like the fact that next Monday we finish at 2. And the Tuesday after that we finish 12!!!!! I’m even looking forward to opening my brand new pack of revision cards. This is a new strategy for me. Normally I write up all my notes on plain paper using coloured pens. In addition, this term, I’m going to have a card per bone/muscle/tendon/ligament/joint/nerve. Every little helps. But I think it’s a sure sign that I’m going steadily crazy.

My brother keeps saying to me “you chose the profession, stop complaining about the workload” (apologises if I’ve already told you that. Anything non-medical passes straight through my brain. Anything medical passes straight through too, to be honest). And although it pains me to admit it, he’s so right. And I know it’s all going to be worth it in the end. We had a hospital day last week. I spent a day shadowing a fifth year. The whole idea is to make us see that the two-year science degree that is pre-clinicals is worthwhile. My fifth year said she starts work in about 6 months. And she wasn’t scared or nervous at all. She couldn’t wait because in 6 months it’ll all be worth it. The thought of working absolutely petrifies me. I’m going to have people’s lives in my hands. One slip of the tongue/wrist and I could have killed someone. You do realise that giving us that level of responsibility is like giving an arsonist a box of matches and disconnecting the telephone lines. And yet, I can’t wait. One of the patients called me doctor. Hyperventilating aside it was really kind of nice. Maybe that much responsibility should be seen as a privilege, and not a curse.

And until then it’s late nights, moments of happiness found in the most unlikely (geeky) of places and mugs and mugs of Tesco’s instant mocha sachets.

P.S. For everyone who still has exams, good luck. For anyone who comes to my uni, good luck for Wednesday. If you don’t hear from me over the next few months it’s because I’ve dropped out of medical school and have started work as a bin man.

It's not your fault...

This is taking personal to a whole new level. But I've been feeling kind of down lately and then I logged into facebook (my actual account, not my despondent medic account, even though I've wrote "despondentmedic" later on...you'll see). And I realised that I don't want to put all the generic stuff on my status. So I started to write (on Word) what I really wanted to write (on FB) and it kind of turned into this. And then I realised that I wanted one of the people involved in the...for want of a better word, rant...to read this but I can't send it to them. I just can't. So I decided to put it up here instead. Don't feel like you need to say anything. You can if you want (my heart flutters everytime it says "1 comment needs moderating", lol), but you don't have to. Anyway...  (NB the bold doesn't mean shout it or anything, it's just an emphasis when you say it out loud. You normally put italics but I'd already used them. This was a bad idea. NBB I'm not crazy. It was just a bad day)

DESPONDENTMEDIC wishes the world would stop turning, wishes that she could make it stand still, wishes that out of the darkness someone would come find her and tell her the truth. It shouldn’t be this hard to live, it shouldn’t be this hard to step through the crowds, it shouldn’t be so easy to blend into the background, especially as you’re meant to be surrounded by people who love you. Yeah, right. Falling again. Flew too high now falling again. I can see the wall and I know that it’s Germany all over again. So high, so tall, impossible to climb, too solid to chisel through. How long must I walk 'till I find a hole? How long will I walk 'till I find a hole? It shouldn’t be this hard, but it is. Is it my fault? They always say it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your fault we got divorced, it was never your fault that we argued. But they don’t realise they’re just screwing you up even more. Yeah, maybe some people just accept that but I was never an acceptor, not when it comes to life. It wasn’t your fault – you say that to a person who finds it hard to believe and hard to trust and they’re just going to doubt your every word even though they love you so much. It wasn’t your fault.


It was my fault, and the realisation is harder to bear than you thought. Then you grow up, you swim through the treacle of disappointment that seems to be rising an inch every minute, every second, every whisper. And then something happens. Another abandonment. Another abandonment by someone who claims to care about you. Well if you cared why did you go? If you thought I was going to hurt myself why did you disappear? If you were concerned I was going to do something bad and come running to you for support then why did you make it so that when something bad does happen I can’t find you? You claim you care, you even claimed unconditional love. And if you never said that’s how it came across. And then you do something like this. I’ve complained to you before. I’ve told you about him, about his lies, about his claiming unconditional love and how it’s so hard to deal with the pain when he disappoints again. When he hates, again. I’ve told you, I must have. And if I didn’t surely you got it from the book that you got everything else from. And then you do the same - I still love you but I don’t want to see you anymore. It’s like being dumped by the boyfriend I’ll never have. It’s worse than being dumped by the boyfriend I’ll never have. It’s like falling out of a plane without a parachute. It’s like being told you’ve got incurable cancer. It’s like having someone cut out your gut and then making you eat it. It’s like watching your child die. It’s like watching your mother die. It’s like dying. With no hope of a hereafter.

And you know what’s so funny? In some ways you were right. There is something wrong. I am broken. Cracked. Missing. Misplaced. I am, and you realised, and you told other people but you never tried to help me. You took a responsibility that you thought too heavy for your already overburdened shoulders and you threw it at others. If you were so concerned why didn’t you try to help me? If you were so concerned why have you left? If I didn’t love you why am I still be so sad about this? I am broken. I am cracked. I am twisted inside. Misplaced. And you made it worse. You left. You left. You left.

Do you want to know the only good thing that has come out of this? I’ve finally admitted to myself that I need help. No, that’s wrong. I knew I needed help a long time ago. I came out of the womb knowing there was something wrong with me. But you spurred me to actually be proactive and go get help. After everything, the caring, the shirking of responsibility it was your inaction and your selfish actions that made me go get help. You made me go get counselling. And for that I hope I can one day thank you.

I miss you. And I love you. And I want to hate you but I can’t. And I don’t want you to come back because then when it doesn’t work you’ll leave again and third time’s a charm.

I miss you. And I’m sorry. But it wasn’t your fault – well, it quite blatantly was.

House Hunting...

So I promised you a post on the delights of hunting for houses. Well here it is...

First of all, just let me say, that I hate house hunting. With a passion. Partly because it means that life is changing. Partly because I'm still not 100% certain I'm living with the right people. But mostly because of the changing thing. I don't want it to change. I like my flat. I love having my own space. I have no idea what I'm going to do in a house with 4 other girls.

In terms of people, house hunting has almost killed me. Just when I thought everything was going well in terms of friendship and the fact that I had managed to emerge from my shell and make friends it all went downhill. I was going to be living with the girl in the room next door to me. All of my friends are linked through her. All of them. But then she decided that she wanted to live with the boyfriend who hasn't even got into our uni yet. I'm Muslim. I don't want to live with a guy. So, very nicely, I asked her to think about what she was doing because, in her deciding we were all going to live with the BF, I was automatically being pushed out.

She, a law student no less, started bad mouthing me off to everyone. Everyone. And asking people to chose between us. That isn't mature. That's downright mean. And because of her I'm now living with 2 people I get on with really really well and 2 people I barely know. One of them, lets call her D, is the complete opposite of me. She loves going out. Loves it. We barely speak.

Part of me just wanted to stay in halls next year but I was too much of a chicken to break away from the only group I seemed to have going for me at that current moment in time. And yesterday we found a house. A very nice house with nice sized rooms and a nice landlord and its only a nice stone throw away from the uni gate. It's very nice. So nice I payed a holding deposit.

And then, (apologise for the rambling - I'm using this blog as therapy), I had a panic attack at 1am this morning. I suddenly realised the reason for the pit in my stomach that I had been having ever since we told the estate agent we were ready to commit. This pit normally means something bad is going to happen. As per usual, my gut was right.

You see, I'm muslim. I know I've already said that but it's fundamently important to the story. Muslims don't drink, go out (to pubs, clubs), don't have BFs. They are pretty much the complete opposite of students. I had decided that this was going to be alright - that I could live in a house with people who do all the things I'm not meant to do and it wouldn't be unIslamic in any way. Then I realised that it might be. And suddenly I was drowning in the fact that I was going to have to tell my new house mates that I couldn't live with them any more. That they would have to find somebody else. That they would hate me.

I've since been told that as long as I don't do the things they're going to do I shouldn't burn in hell. I just hope the person who told me this was right. Either way, I'm living with people I really don't have a lot in common with. Next year's going to be fun. Not.

The pit hasn't gone yet. I doubt it ever will...

Coming out...of hibernation, silly...don't laugh I know what you were thinking...

Hi!

Apologises to my (3) readers at my lack of blogging of late. The inevitable exams meant that I was hibernating and then the return to med school (plus house hunting rubbish) completly threw me. And so tonight is me-night and I thought I would share my thoughts with you.

Now all that remains is to decide what to talk about...um...

The holidays. Bad. Full of revision. End of.

Exams. So so. I can't decide how they went, to be perfectly honest. I'll just wait for the results and beat myself up then.

Umm...Oh, my apparant lack of anominity. Apparantly someone (a certain Mr/Miss Anonymous) worked out which uni I go to. Well done! Your prize...will be in the post lol. Sorry, you don't get anything. I'm a student. All my money goes on food and stuff. But I do want to say that if you do work out who I am I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone all the personal stuff that's on here. I created this blog so I could rant without fear of reprisal. Tell me though, if you work it out. It will be nice to finally meet someone who reads this rubbish. On the other hand, feel free to tell other people about the blog. The more readers the merrier!!!!!

I warn you now that this blog could get very personal over the next few weeks/months. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to share what I'm considering sharing but...we will see... (bit of a cliffhanger there. Sorry :D )

And now I shall return to me-night. Another movie/tv show before bed methinks. Sorry this is so short and disjointed - just wait until tomorrow's rant about finding a house. That should be fun :D

Decades...

The other day I looked out of the window and it was snowing. Lots. And at some point during the day I said "The last time I saw snow like this was a decade ago". I've never felt so old.

And now we start a new decade. Normally, I like New Years. We stay up, sometimes have friends over, watch the fireworks, go out onto the close (or cul-de-sac if you're weird) and I watch whilst everyone else gets drunk on champagne and we all try and sing Auld Lands Syn or whatever it's called and I just goldfish and promise myself I'll learn the words for next year. It's fun, I enjoy it.

This year I went to bed so I would be able to wake up early enough to do some revision. I haven't wrote the annual new year's diary entry (the only diary entry I write nowadays) and I fell asleep to the sound of neighbours setting off fireworks. I didn't sleep, not really. 2 hours proper sleep interspersed with 6 hours of on-edge-semi-slumber isn't sleep. I haven't slept since. This does not bode well, especially considering I have an exam in 5 days, I go back to uni in 3 (assuming the new layer of snow goes) and I still haven't managed to go over every topic once. Sigh. Hopefully this isn't going to be the template for the rest of the year.

2009 started off bad. Cambridge rejection. Exams. General all round stress. I realised that as much as I loved the 7 years I spent at my high school I was majorly stressed all the time. Since going to uni I've felt so much lighter, if you know what I mean. Until, of course, this "holiday" if you can call it that. During what type of holiday do you get up at 7:30 to revise and miss playing in the 6-8 inches of snow that fell today (mum got the car onto the close and then had to be pushed back up the drive by the neighbours - it hasn't stopped snowing all day and she has to go into work tomorrow cause of a deadline :( ) so you can revise. Revise. Revise. Revise. Man, I feel sick.

But no. This year will be better. This decade will be better. I've been given an opportunity to change, to make new friends (who have been keeping in touch over the holiday - good sign??) and to have a fresh start. And, as my brother keeps saying, "you chose the profession, stop moaning about all the work".

Look out, world. Here I come :D