It was the second cycle of the semester as 4th year students (*dances because I’m getting closer to the end*), and it was to be “Phthisiopulmonology”, which is a fancy word for “Study of Tuberculosis”.
We had been warned that the teacher was racist and mean, and truth be told, I didn’t warm up to her the first day. Come Monday morning, she came into class smiling and welcoming, so I relaxed.. See, she isn’t so bad…
The second week of my summer practise was….something. In the sense that nothing more really happened, and recall last week’s events here . Maybe I had been expecting too much excitement, (imagine a scene from any Grey’s Anatomy episode).. I had been expecting just a little bit of that, which would have been fine, but nope.
I just finished my third year of medical school, which meant a lot to me, but especially these two things :
I’d written (and passed, thank God) five of the most grueling exams I’ve ever taken on, and
I get to begin summer practice (as we’re 3rd/4th year students, it’s basically nursing training)
The practicals consist of two “parts” : surgery and propaedeutics, with each taking two weeks. My group and I started off with Surgery, and luckily we were all assigned to the same hospital.
W e got zero time to recover from exam fever, and having been sent two pdf files detailing instructions concerning addresses and such of our practise in Russian language, and having to decode the whole thing, which really wasn’t a bother, but it did give a sense of foreboding to the coming events..