This is a direct transcription from my personal diary, which has not been edited. The aim is to give an unfiltered insight into the mind of a medical student (me!) after an exam.
Monday 23rd February
Earlier today, I finished that god-awful three-hour exam, and honestly, I feel like I can finally breathe again. Unfortunately, I don’t think it went particularly well. I found the questions on paediatrics to be particularly unsavoury and oddly specific, to say the least. Despite the fact that it was an MCQ exam and that I think I did well on the OBGYN and Psychiatry sections, I’m still not convinced that I’ll achieve the grade I’m hoping for. Honestly, in the first few moments after the exam, I felt rather disappointed in myself. I know how hard I prepared for it, and I hate it when it feels like I haven’t lived up to my full potential. I suppose I wasn’t particularly sad, but rather incredibly frustrated with myself because I know how good I can be when everything aligns, and the dots connect the way they’re supposed to.
The life of a medical student really should be studied. Sometimes it feels like such a heavy burden, constantly absorbing knowledge and acquiring skills, always trying to stay afloat academically, and even personally. Honestly, it can feel incredibly exhausting, yet I know that I’ll continue to do it willingly. Having the opportunity to one day save or improve someone’s life is something I’ll never take for granted, and these exams are just necessary evils on the journey to getting there.
I checked my phone after exiting the exam hall to find a text message from a colleague asking me how it went, which allowed me to vent for a short amount of time. That small act felt like a hand briefly squeezing my shoulder. I know that I’m incredibly lucky to have such a supportive network of people around me. My social circle has expanded so much over the past eighteen months since starting clinical rotations, and even more so since the beginning of this academic year. I really appreciate people, probably more than I articulate. Those who know me best will recognise that I tend to disguise sincerity with sarcasm and deflect affection with humour. But I am improving! I’m acutely aware that not everyone has that kind of support, so I’m incredibly grateful and don’t take it for granted.
After lamenting for approximately five whole dramatic minutes, I swiftly pushed the exam to the back of my mind and proceeded to forget about it for the next few hours. It’s funny. Someone recently told me I’m very good at compartmentalising. At the time, I wasn’t sure whether it was a compliment or a diagnosis. I suppose it’s both.
I went to get some kimchi pork cupbap takeaway from my favourite Korean restaurant across town. I always make a point of getting something nice after exams, no matter how well or how poorly they go. I think there’s a level of comfort I get from knowing that I have something to look forward to after exams. I ran into another colleague while I was having my takeaway back at college. We talked a bit about her upcoming OBGYN exam (hopefully it’ll go well!), and after I finished eating, I left university.
I couldn’t decide whether to go home or wander around for a bit. In the end, I took the bus out of the city centre. I found myself in Phoenix Park. It stretches wide and open, just west of the city, a wonderful living vision of green. In the midst of joggers wearing Alo, and mothers pushing double buggies, this vast green landscape buzzed with life – trees, deer, quiet wildlife – and yet I felt completely still. I can’t remember the last time I felt this peaceful. It’s been a long time coming. Lately, it feels like I’m constantly working, constantly chasing a signpost that keeps moving further and further away. Sometimes it’s nice to just step back and let everything become still. I’m still here. Living, breathing, existing.
I used to come to Phoenix Park all the time when I was in my first and second year of medical school, whenever things felt overwhelming. Now, in fourth year, my free time has practically vanished, but it’s important to make time for things like this. I walked to a familiar spot just under two kilometres northeast of the main bus stop, to a disused outbuilding I’ve adopted for my own solitude. Its stone steps have been warped from years of acid rain, and I sat on one and contemplated. I’ve found that I’ve been doing that a lot recently. I have a tendency to live in my own head an awful lot of the time. I sat there for about twenty minutes just thinking about all the life decisions that have brought me to where I am today. People I’ve met, and the people I’ve had to leave behind. What would I change? Would anything have turned out differently?
On a less existential note, I saw deer today. The park is full of them, but sometimes they’re stubborn and refuse to show themselves. Nevertheless, I saw them today. It was a group of about ten or twelve just hovering at the periphery of a wooded area. They looked so…. innocent, and sweet, and small like honeysuckle (I do love that word), and the herd moved in unison, like a choreographed dance. I guess I wanted to become one of them, so I followed a medium-sized one to the edges of the woods. There was a particular sheen to this one’s golden-brown coat. I kept my distance, taking my time to make its acquaintance. I sat in its proximity (no feeding or petting, you’re not allowed to do that) and it felt…. peaceful. Neither of us moved for a while. It was calming. The sun started to go down, and the herd retreated into the woods. I knew I was ready to go home.
On the way home, and as I’m writing this, my mind has drifted back to the exam, but not in a negative or pervading sense. I think I’m at peace with whatever happens with it. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t nearly as catastrophic as I initially imagined. I do have quite the flair for amateur dramatics. In hindsight, I think I just needed space. And air. And trees. And Korean food. Sometimes you need to remind yourself that life does not hinge on a three-hour exam. It’s not the end of the world if an exam doesn’t go as perfectly as you had imagined. I know that there will be plenty of new opportunities to show myself what I’m capable of. And when that time comes, I think I’ll be ready.