“What do you want to be, when you grow up?”

“Duh. A doctor.”

It was so easy to say that when we were kids, not so easy to actually get into a med school worth our parents’ hard-earned money and it is definitely anything but easy to get through 5.5 years of undergraduate medicine, with your sanity intact.

Welcome to the first year of medical school, people.

1. We only have 3 subjects.

Only 1200 pages of each, plus reference books plus practicals plus lecture notes plus demonstrations, and if you don’t read them twice, you won’t remember shit in the exam anyway. By the time you get to the question paper, it’ll all be Latin to you.

2. We know the value of time.

Because we don’t have any. With the above-mentioned curriculum and 8 hours of classes 6 days a week, I’m surprised we have a life after all.
I’m kidding. We don’t.

3. Nothing grosses us out. Except unintelligent dumbasses.

Working on dissected and ripped-up cadavers 2 hours every day for 4 days a week, there’s nothing in the world that can make us gag anymore. Looking at pictures of distorted human specimens, and handling violently sick patients makes us immune to every sort of gore known to man.

4. We are arrogant.

We consider every other course and field easier than ours, and stupid people with low IQs piss us off worse than any germs in the body. Doesn’t take long before superiority complex sets in, and we walk around with airs of a proper doctor, even though there’re 5 years to go before we get the title of ‘Dr’.

5. We get our 8 hours of sleep.

Over a span of 4 days. Come exams, the fear of failing keeps us studying and group-studying, pulling all-nighters, literally burning the midnight oil. The sale of Red Bull goes up in the canteen, and the smell of strong coffee pervades throughout the hostel.

6. We don’t pass anyway.

Med school celebrates the equality of mankind. With the 50% passing criteria and the impossible-to-crack questions asked, all of us get creamed. Only the toppers reign.

7. Nothing humiliates us like teachers in the viva.

We know the answer, but we can’t answer. We don’t know the answer, so we can’t, anyway. If we try, it’s like talking gibberish, and the teacher’s face makes you figuratively pee your pants. After you’re done, you’re very decidedly told how pathetic a doctor you’re gonna be.
Yeah well, because my being a good doctor depends solely on the frickin origin of the soleus muscle, eh?

It’s definitely tough, and more definitely, the real race Virus told us about, when you’re in a med school. Life is hectic, and there are as many low days as high, but moderation is the key. We study hard, party harder, because no matter how much it brings us down, we know in the end it’ll be worth it. Hippocratic oath, not my foot.

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