To this chapter, a conclusion

Yesterday I finished the second stage of my medical board licensing examination, meaning that I will now be able to practice medicine as an intern come July 1st. More importantly for me in the short term, though, is the fact that I can now go about the practice of life in an unencumbered fashion, reading and writing what I want, when I want. It's a nice feeling. Of course, nagging issues will arise and demand attention, such as ongoing student government duties and the detail of a graduation speech I have to prepare. However, those things will not seem too terribly painful now that my time is my own once again.

The exam was another exercise in attrition. I had to see twelve patients, performing a thorough history and physical exam on each, and then summarize my findings in a medical record note. It wouldn't have been so bad were it not for the unrealistic time constraint imposed upon us: 15 minutes to interview, examine, and counsel the patient, and 10 minutes to write it up. The latter time limit I could handle, but 15 minutes to see a patient borders on absurdity. Oh, sure, doctors do it every day in their clinics (we've all likely been on the receiving end of all-too-brief care, seeing a blur of a white coat move into the room and steamroll us with a mechanical diagnosis and treatment plan), but they do so with the aid of pre-printed patient history forms filled out in the waiting room, saving them the effort of asking about Aunt Clarice's psoriasis and other minute details. Nevermind the fact that practicing physicians have...well, years of practice, which tends to expedite the process of clinic visits. In any case, 15 minutes proved vastly inadequate for me to feel comfortable in creating a quality patient encounter. Yet, that was the scenario presented to me. So, for eight hours total (we had a couple of breaks, hence the failure of the math), I plowed through patient after patient... Oh, wait. I can't really say any more. See, the first rule of the Clinical skills exam is you're not supposed to talk about it. And the second rule of the clinical skills exam is you're not supposed to talk about it. Seriously. I could get in trouble. In fact, I may just burst into a smoldering pile of charred bones in an instant if I divulge any more details. Suffice it to say that I feel tired and worn, but glad to be finished. Now it's time to gather the scraps of my life, and during the next three months, paste them together into such a patchwork that, though it will not likely resemble the real thing, it may serve as a suitable substitute. So bear with me.

And thanks to everyone for persevering during the great Blogger comment famine. My trip to Chicago left me unaware of the turmoil, but I was pleased to find a couple of emails waiting for me upon my return. Thanks to KarbonKountyMoos for the great postcard, and sorry to Extreme Unction for the delay in providing apt medical terminology for toes. It's good to be back.