The Case History of an M.B.B.S Student...

Guest posts are not new in blogosphere. I had asked some of my closest friends and writers I adore, to write something for me-just that the laziest and cutest bums fall on my lap. My purpose for guest posts is just as the name suggests-get the people I love on to my page as warmly welcomed guests so that they leave their indelible footprints on 'My Tumbling Thoughts' as a mark of their affection for me.

Here’s introducing this week-Akshay Singh, someone whom I have known from some time now. This little dynamite and Jack of all trades is all of 22 with the wisdom and experience of a 44 year old mad explosive-an M.B.B.S student now in Chennai, he has the typical U.P. flavour with his upbringing in Lucknow. Perhaps that’s why we gel so well or maybe together we two have the naughtiest minds and the power to light up the darkest situation. You have to see us yack our guts out like two gossipy girls...

Catch him on his blog: http://twistedchillies.blogspot.com/

Here he recounts in his naatak ways, his journey to being a psychiatrist, after generously having agreed on making me being his first patient.

THE CASE-HISTORY OF AN M.B.B.S. STUDENT.....

So whenever I talk to Suruchi, she’s like “Aap ke college mein kya chal raha hai?” And (one agony aunt to another) I start regaling her with the tragedies/nautanki /pantomines/Ramsay brothers’ movie scenes that I go through every day. Until I hear her giggling on the other end (sigh- I need to list that one as a cause for acute tachycardia pretty soon)

This in turn made me realize: Life as an M.B.B.S. student is FUNNY! Moreover so, if you go ask any of us nerds as to what is college like, we’ll give you a sad face, the eyes lose their shine, a sob or two might escape too (females*sigh* ) “Jao be, kyon jale pe namak chidak rahe ho?”

As I step into the final year, I have decided to let it out: 3-and-half years of sweating under the lab coats in Chennai summers, of getting humiliated over and over again, poking my finger to test my own blood, of replacing my i-pod with stethoscope and self-diagnosing myself with 200 diseases...Here it is, out in the open: A sneak-peek (The total amount of madness would need a book) 

THE DISSECTION HALL:

*Yes, feel free to imagine the Munna Bhai scene, NOT the CID forensic lab*. 2^nd day of college-you just evaded kamine seniors-the competition is ON: Who can suck up to teachers better? Who can look nerdier? Who carries more books with them? (Yes, ladies ...we surrender! My entire brotherhood surrenders before thy supremacy here)

And then you see THEM (you don’t know it yet but they’ll be your best friends after a year). Lying there naked, in all their glory-that shrivelled up skin, that bony frame and the intoxicating aroma of formalin adding to their mysterious aura! Yes, the CADAVERS for us-for you, the bodies of the dead.

But soon the magic strips off, actually, almost everything strips off :D 

You remove the skin, then the superficial fascia, the fat layer, the muscles, the nerves, the arteries and all the while keep checking out the “maal” in the class (and secretly hope that both of you get to dissect the body together one day).

And wrapped in all that stink of formalin and organs splashed across your table (no, not all them but the stupid intestines are so slippery) ...you somehow become a college student.

You play relays with the hand bones, take a stick and poke in the heart chambers and of course name your cadavers (ours was called ‘RangaSwami’. There was also PhoolMati, Ramu Kaka,Gajodhar, PhoolanDevi ) 

As the teacher is opening the cranium and extracting the brain (with all that gooey-gooey stuff leaking out) you are flirting with your ‘pehla pehla pyar’. Over the drill of a saw cutting through the rib cage, your friend is whispering the lastest ‘garma garam khabar’ in your ears. 

I still remember the last day of preparation holidays. And I was running in the dissection hall with a heart in one hand and a cut hand in the other (Gloves ?? Thoo ...newcomers use that...No time macha)

And people wonder as to why doctors are slightly psycho! :D

THE HOSTEL ...THE EXAMS

Ah! Where do I start from?

The sword fights with femur bones? Or dozing off next to a skull you were studying? Or boys staring into each others’ eyes for ages to come up with the anti-climax type ka conclusion, “Macha, I think you have corneal opacity!”

For those engineers who moan (and boast) about last night studying..he, he, he- Bachche log, try studying 250 drugs (their classifications, uses, side effects, variations, doses ) in one night . By the time you go for exams, your brain is CLOGGED. And yet you keep muttering under your breath for the fear, “Bhai, kuch aur aa gaya toh tapak jaoonga...”

Sitting in (two separate) loos side by side and revising answers with your friend (and then the guy brushing his teeth also joins in).People go dancing in corridors just prior to the paper to de-stress, throw their books about, are found sleeping on the stairs, self prescribe drugs, sit and recite answers together until it sounds as if some occult ceremony is in progress (and I am not even going towards the girls’ hostel)

And needless to say, the sale of Red Bull goes up!

Ultimately all you remember are 2-3 points (sometimes not even that). For all of you, who are of the opinion that doctors lack creativity and imagination, please refer to our university papers!

THE WARDS.... 

Yes, you go in with you stethoscope, white coat and try your best to get the “daaktar” swagger  UNTIL you realize that, you are the lowest, most despicable creature in that ward. Even the junior nurses know that you don’t know shit (and you thought you’d carry that secret to grave, eh?)

And then begins the cycle: The professors humiliate you first. Then the senior residents take off your ‘bachi khuchi izzat’. The nurse throws you scathing looks and points you over to some patient. The seniors standing over there kick you bum away (koi baat nahi, every Dharmendra ka doggy has his day, wait till my juniors come) *sniff, sniff* P.S. - Sometimes, the patient also partakes in the ‘cheer-haran’ *sigh-zaalim duniya*

After a few months, you realize that you have lost it! What about the spirit/ the patience/ the hope? (Actually, all those too)...but more importantly: the SHAME!

Getting screamed at in the middle of the ward (yes, patients ke saamne) is such a routine thing .Patient smiles at us, we smile at him-we both know, we are at the same doctor’s mercy.

You can ask anyone to open their lungi so that you can examine and palpate their testes (And that’s how female students learn that it’s a human organ, not a PUMP!) You can go up to any woman and ask her about her periods. Or if her blouse has become loose (to check for weight loss...Idea plan macha)

And as life moves on: Patients become this list of CASES you must examine and get the findings out of. (For those of you who preach ‘empathy’, half-an-hour you get in the exam macha, either you examine the pregnant woman’s abdomen OR you listen to her saas-bahu/mohalla/husband/work/marriage problems) 

Injecting drugs into rats and flipping them in the air, boiling urine in test-tubes, smearing stool samples on slides...If you are lucky, you get to see a live autopsy too! We keep peering deeper into books; Romance and bunking and outings go hand in hand.

5-and-half years and we grow up as human beings: see people suffer, help babies being born .And somewhere down the lane, they all become memories .You meet best friends, first crushes, inspirations  and learn things you can only in a hospital .

After all, isn’t that what College life is all about ...