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Schmedical school


Sabrina

We chart the ups and downs of fabulous fresher Sabrina as she trains to be a doctor.
Entry: 5

TheSite.org follows fabulous fresher Sabrina as she trains to be a doctor, and ends up on the operating table herself.

I feel like the proverbial Carrie Bradshaw. In the sitting-at-my-desk-typing sense - typing sentences which make no sense. If that makes sense? Although, I'm pretty sure that most well-adjusted single women don't shuttle between the chapters on gluconeogenesis and the latest issue of Vogue.

Yes, recently I have been back on the dating scene. Being single by choice for over two years can take its toll, especially in a gloomy city like London, but recently the floodgates have opened, and while there isn't really much to write home about, it's nice to have people *yes, plural!* to fill up those empty slots in the calendar.

So yes, one part of my life improving, another the breast situation - falling flat onto its face. Not literally though, that would need another operation. I've heard nothing from the hospital about a date for my breast reduction surgery. Why haven't they called? Or sent a letter? Was it something I did? Perhaps I came across as too needy. I'd like to say I can live without them, that there are plenty of other surgeons in the sea and after a bit of time, I'll be able to move on but there will never be one like him. Seriously though, I'm getting impatient. And ambivalent. I have good days, I have bad days. I'm on a good day. They seem to have shrunk from a G cup to an F cup due to changing my pill back to the original low dose one. Hopefully I'll never go that far into the alphabet again. My tongue also requires further surgery. It's going to require a three-day stay in hospital, but, seeing as I have no time at the moment, it will probably have to wait until the summer.

"Being single by choice for over two years can take its toll, especially in a gloomy city like London"

Then there's schmedical, I mean, medical school. Work is becoming increasingly demanding and sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here. It can be hard to keep up the motivation, but I have a really good network of friends who are also going through the same thing. We've been focusing on the abdomen, and it's quite enjoyable, except during dissection. I didn't think the smell of the formaldehyde could get any worse, but open up the abdominal area, and it certainly brings up some less than pleasant smells.

I have also been teaching sex education in schools. It was short and sweet. I was at a girl's school, the girls we were with were 14, and we only had three sessions with them. Despite the teaching they had had with their teachers, there was a lot of confusion over contraception, emergency contraception etc. and at times, I felt that we were overwhelming the girls with our own knowledge, but we eventually established a good way of communicating, and they felt they could trust us enough to talk about stuff that they couldn't talk to their parents or teachers about. One of the things I took away with me, was that if I decide to have my own children (don't write me off as a militant childfree type just yet, I'm sure my uterus is warm, fluffy and snugly) I would prefer to teach them this sort of stuff myself, rather than shifting the responsibility on a school. Obviously striking a balance, avoiding something like, "Now these, darling, are nipple clamps," (yes, I shuddered too!)

Other than that, reality has bitten, and I've come to realise that I won't be able to stay in halls forever, despite various plans to lock myself in. So house-hunting will be on the agenda soon. I've made arrangements to move in with a friend of mine in halls, and we'll be looking for a place, hopefully in Zone 1 (central London). Perhaps it's wishful thinking, but I'd like to stay close to where I am now. On the downside, this will require me having to sell various body parts on the black market to pay rent. But having already sold my soul to the medical profession, I don't think I'll be missing much.


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