All the Trumpets of the Sky...

It is mid-semester here with Spring less than a month away. We are knee-deep in microbiology, physiology, essentials of patient care, osteopathic manipulation, and snow.

Oh my gosh the snow....

After a winter that at best can be described as *ahem* pretty lame, the snow finally began here on Valentine's Day - and has yet to let up for more than a day or two. We have received inches upon inches of the white stuff sandwiched between layers of sleet and ice. Though the temperature hasn't been terribly low, nor has there been much wind, the snow remains relentless in making many roads impassible thus keeping hundreds of DCOM students virtual prisoners in their own homes. We have missed eight days of classes and will miss at least a couple of more. Oh that snow...

Despite the inconvenience, the faculty and staff at DCOM has risen to this challenge, making sure students have access to online classes and study guides as well as personally seeing to it that students in the dorms have food. These past 2 weeks have confirmed to me that DCOM is so much more than a "medical school". It's a village, a tight community of people who will go to incredible lengths to take care of each other. For the class of 2018 we began last Fall as a nervous, motley group of strangers that, in the ensuing months and especially in the face of our current situation, are becoming a team. This transformation is remarkable to behold.

I better let you go for now.  It's snowing outside...

                                                                                                  © 2015 FullerFoto

The Candyman

By nature, I'm a competitive individual. Since my youth I purposed to excel at what I thought I might be good at: namely academics. I worked to be at the top of my class and, for some schools, I achieved my goal. I was determined to lead the pack and set the example for others to follow.

My oh my how things have changed.

Though I have had the pleasure of serving (and competing) with many talented and intelligent people in the past, here at LMU-DCOM I find myself surrounded by an entirely new breed of classmate. Every one of my 240+ classmates seems endowed with extraordinary, almost supernatural, intelligence. They are bright, logical, and witty. Every day, when I show up, I am impressed anew with their intellect and ability. They seem to grasp the course-work with ease and are able, like youthful Sherlock Holmes, to draw reasonable conclusions. Often I stand back in respectful awe. Who ARE these people? I wonder. They are a diverse group, these mighty oaks among whom I learn. They hail from a dozen countries and nearly every state in the union. In this group are scientists, biologists, professional singers, former clergy, college athletes and uber-geeks. I cannot think of an ethnicity that is not represented. In short, they are amazing.

I sometimes wonder what I am doing amongst so august a group. I'm half expecting a school administrator to pull me out of class one day and say, "I'm sorry Mr. Fuller, but we made a mistake letting you in the school. You are qualified only to alphabetize our M&Ms in the school cafeteria". I am a midget among giants, a pauper among Picassos.

The up side of this happy situation is that every day I learn not only from the school professors but also from these talented classmates. I can truly say that I would not make it through school without their ready help. I am grateful for them and honored to call them colleagues. May God bless each of them.

I must get back to my M&Ms....

1st Year, 2nd Semester - Ride the Wave!

I should begin this by saying that I love medical school. I really do. The more I'm learning about the human body and mind the more amazed I become. It is a miracle that we as human beings function. Did you know, for example, that every one of the 37 trillion-plus cells in your body are, even as you read this, creating (or destroying) 2000 proteins a second?  Way cool! Or, did you know that we humans have more bacteria cells in and on our bodies than we have of our own cells? Think of THAT next time you feel grungy....

Knowing and learning all of this is wonderful. One downside of medical school, though, is the reality that it becomes, by necessity, nearly all consuming. As this first year is drawing to a close (only 74 more school days left!), school builds upon itself and becomes bigger and bigger, a tsunami of "high yield knowledge" for which we are increasingly accountable. This massive wave dominates one's time and threatens to overwhelm every aspect of life - thoughts, dreams, even relationships. It is essential to be able to strike balance in one's life! I'm learning that, at least for me, becoming a physician is not a job - it's a calling. It's a transformation of myself into a new person. I hadn't been warned of this powerful force of change before applying to professional school.

I guess the take home message is this: my classmates and I are becoming healers. Complete strangers will come to us for comfort, answers, healing, hope. This is a profound responsibility and humbling honor. To become this source of skill and knowledge requires a profound sacrifice. For the sake of my future patients this is a sacrifice I welcome.

I love medical school.

courtesy of www.brasilwallpaper.blogspot.com

The Good, the Bad, the Crazy - Part I

I shouldn't be blogging right now. In two days we have our final final (think about that...) for the semester. This test covers MFM (Molecular Fundamentals of Medicine - essentially biochemistry on steroids) and Histology (structures of the body studied on a cellular level.) It promises to be a big test. We are being given over 2 1/2 hours to complete it. I should be studying for this beast of an exam and I will resume studying in a moment. I recall, though, that I promised you an update, so here I am, if not briefly.

First, it is difficult for me to grasp the reality that our first semester in medical school is over. How did that happen? How can 18 weeks go so fast but feel so agonizingly slow? How is it possible that we completed over 27 semester hours of work (almost a year's worth of studying in an undergraduate university) in four short months? I look back on this first part of my former medical training and questions fall into my head like pebbles in a jar: am I in over my head? Am I crazy for trying this at this point in my life? Will I be able to handle 3 1/2 more years? Will I remember what I need to know when treating a patient? What if I forget something essential and hurt someone? and the list goes on.

I hope, dear reader, that you don't misunderstand me. I love (LOVE!!) what I'm learning. I am so grateful to have the privilege, the honor, of being here and being transformed slowly, painfully, into a physician. I know many people who haven't made it this far. Indeed, we have already lost, in this first semester, nearly 20% of our class for sundry reasons. I love Lincoln Memorial University DeBusk College of Osteopathic Medicine (LMU-DCOM for short), the faculty and staff here, for the nurturing and concern they have showered upon me in order to ease my transition from civilian into health care provider. I feel a great debt to them for their teaching an mentorship.

www.nocoastbias.com

Knowing all of this, it has been a difficult journey. I have missed out on so much time with my family. I have spent hours (and hours and hours and hours) staring at power point slides and flipping through books. I have felt (and feel even as I type this) the pressure of pending exams. Medical school is not for the faint of heart. I'm becoming increasingly convinced, however, that this race is not designed for the fast or strong as much as for those who endure, those who possess that almost supernatural stick-to-itiveness that drives so many to accomplish so much. I love it. It's killing me, but I love it.

More after this coming Monday and our final.

Back to the books.

Checking In

Can it be the last time I posted anything on this blog was September?! Like a tsunami, medical school swept me away, carrying me careening through a rocky canyon of anatomy labs, written tests, and patient-simulated practicals. The time that I enjoyed at the beginning of the semester quickly evaporated as more and more information was crammed aggressively down my throat with the hope that some of it might stick. The jury is still out as to whether these efforts were successful...

The semester is winding down. We are in the midst of finals week and, as such, my time even now is limited. I wanted you to know, dear reader, that I haven't forgotten about you. There is so much to share, so much that has happened. My goal is to provide a more extensive post this coming Saturday (the day after tomorrow).

Be well. Be healthy. Take care. And I will chat with you in a couple of days. Meanwhile, for me, it's back to the books.  :)

Rest in peace, sweet balloons

Remarkably, we are half-way through our first semester. Despite the joy and anticipation of the recent White Coat Ceremony this past weekend, the semester itself has been a spasmodic convulsion of stress and study interrupted by the infrequent, brain-squeezing exam. At this point, I daresay that people who go to medical school must be the worst kind of masochists, myself included.

The sad reality is, though, that I love this. I love the stress. I love the pressure. I love the learning and I love (did I mention love?) the fact that we are being molded, through this fiery crucible, into physicians. It gives me an anticipation for the future and reminds me that, despite my many years, this old dog can be taught new tricks. The suffering is oddly encouraging.

With that, I give you the following two videos: two more balloons have passed from this world to the next, marking the completion of another couple of difficult medical school exams. 

They were good balloons. May they rest in peace...

That terrific, terrible White Coat

Today was our White Coat Ceremony, at time when, at long last, we as medical students receive our short white coats. Though most medical schools usually grant this privilege to incoming students right after the beginning of their first year, at LMU-DCOM we must work successfully through half of the first semester before receiving this honor. And an honor it is! How smart and professional my colleagues and I looked as we took the Osteopathic Pledge today (you can read the pledge here), bedecked in our new gleaming medical smocks, our mouths forming the words that would direct and guide the rest of our professional medical careers, said in the company of hundreds and hundreds of witnesses. 

All of because of that white coat.

What is this coat that casts such a sudden and startling shadow over my life? It is merely polyester, a gift to me from the Tennessee Osteopathic Medical Association, a thin, ill-fitting garment that has the seal of my medical school and, above this, my name neatly embroidered over the left pocket. 

Over my heart.

This is no mere coat. This is a symbol. A powerful, moving, driving emotional force that represents something so much bigger than myself that the very thought of it is at once inspiring and terrifying. I am now, officially, part of the world of medicine. No more MCATs, no more stiff competition for admission, no more uncomfortable interviews or carefully worded essays seeking the favor of medical school administrations. I'm part of the team. I've been admitted to the ride. And, as I'm slowly molded into a physician, I am ever more aware that I am not here because of my extraordinary talent or intelligence (neither of which I have in any great abundance), but because of the grace of God and the support and sacrifice of so many, many people, my family being foremost in this group. This is part of the reality of the White Coat.

In like manner, the coat is a message to our society. By wearing it I am telling people that I am available to care, eventually to heal. That I have sacrificed my life entire for the health and welfare of strangers. That I am no longer my own. That I am determined, wherever I find suffering, to do my best to alleviate it. That I willingly accept the tremendous burden and unspeakable privilege of becoming a health care provider. It is a sign of accomplishment and a reminder that there is so very much more to do. Every day, when I put it on, I need to be aware that I stand on the shoulders of many who have come before and that I have an obligation to prepare the way for those who will come after. 

That damn, delightful White Coat. May my colleagues and I be found ever worthy to wear it.