Yesterday, we got 'attacked' by about 5 or 6 different Medical Indemnity Insurance companies, advertising to us and welcoming us to the profession (are they even in the profession, to be welcoming us? Who knows). What did they want? They wanted us to register with them for free as students, so we can learn about their company, and perhaps when we graduate and they no longer offer free services, to spend a small fortune on their company.
I counted 8 free pens, 4 cloth bags, 1 highlighter, 1 ruler, 1 case study CD, 2 drink bottles, countless lollies, note pads, lanyards, and ID clips. There were also draws for stethoscopes and textbooks. All this for a bunch of Med students who are on the third day of their career.
While I did enjoy this bombardment of smiling reps and free stuff, it did get me thinking. Suppose these were pharmaceutical companies. Suppose they gave their stuff to us so we would recommend their drugs to our patients. Suppose they gave it to our educators, so that they would teach us to use their drugs.
I know there is a big contention about this, and the issue is an interesting one. Firstly, everyone gets free stuff all the time, but marketing is everywhere and we develope a degree of immunity to it. The only time that I use fabric softener is when I recieve it free in the mail. Just because I have a free pen from company x it doesn't mean I will nessecarily use their products. But it does mean that I know this company and it will come to mind, and if their products are competitive then I will use them. I believe that this is not just me alone, but most of us have some degree of immunity to marketing.
Recieving free pens from companies does not constitute a bribe as such. They can not possibly hope to persuade us to use their products or services just on the basis of a pen or note pad.
I once read an article from a GP somewhere in the states (or somewhere else, can't remember). He works in a tiny practice that really has no money for expensive software and equipment, and he uses a prescribing software that comes at a low cost from pharmaceutical companies, but it is loaded with ads, and is programmed to make choosing certain brands easier. He says that it's not that he supports these companies, but an alternative software has been made unaffordable.
On the other side of the issue, some research does show that free merchandise alters doctors' judgements. I would suggest that it is because the doctors are more aware of the company that they choose it, rather than because they got the free pen. But as long as it is affecting their judgement, that is bad. Doctors should ideally research and know the best and cheapest drug for their patients, but inevitably there will be ones who don't, and will use ones that they are familiar with (ie the company name that is also written on their notepad). It would annoy me if I found out that my doctors' judgements were affected, however subtly, by a company, and similarly I would be annoyed if my educator's judgements were affected.
I'm at the end of what I want to say, and I still havn't come up with a conclusion. It's an interesting issue that I will follow and contemplate during the rest of my education and career. But I rest easy, for today at least, in that I only accepted free stuff from insurance companies and not pharmaceutical companies.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
Where Sida attends Orientation, and ponders the ramifications of being a Med student
It was the first day of uni today. It was alright. (For those readers who just tuned in, I am talking about the Bachelor of Medicine / Bachelor of Surgery program at UQ)
The orientation talks were presented by the various Professors and Doctors and Chairs and Heads. It was all a little mind-boggling, just the titles themselves. Each of them congratulated us for getting in, told us what a good decision we'd made, and some pretty much hailed us as colleagues. There was some talk about what the different strands are all about (Clinical skills, public health, ethics and professional practice, and biomedical science). But a great deal was said that went along the lines of: "If you have any concerns, just realise that you're not alone, and you can come to [me/student support/your peers] for support." It was nice to hear the Heads and Chairs offer themselves to us, but also rather daunting. Is the course really that bad, that such a big deal is made about support and counselling? (Yes, this is how I think when I am in a cynical phase, which I suspect I am in right now.)
Much was said about how difficult this course is, and how it's going to be a long and difficult year. Actually, not a lot was said about it but it was certainly repeated a few times. The Head of School said "It's a long and difficult year which leads into another long and difficult year which leads into 2 difficult years of clinical practice" and I thought, you might as well add: "which leads into a long and difficult career". I realise now that I probably need to cut out some church stuff. Currently I attend Saturday afternoon youth group and Sunday morning service, and there is Wednesday night bible study too, to commense whenever our leader can negociate better work hours. I can't bear to part with any of them really. But if it came down to it, I suppose I will sacrifice Saturday afternoons. I also plan to work some weekends too. I get a headache just thinking about it. I need to plan, to rationalise, to be organised, and to work efficiently. Everything that I'm not.
It strikes me how people act when I tell them I'm a medicine student. Oh, wow, they say. You must be so smart. I have difficulty figuring out how I should act when people do that, so I just smile. It is enough that my parents brag about me, but I noted something strange this sunday. People at church are doing it too. This Sunday my bible study leader did it, and it's the second time someone from church paid me a great deal of praise to a stranger in front of me. My achievements are really just nothing, but I must admit it makes a great story, and, told the right way (with the appropriate pauses), it makes people say wow. (But the same trick is done by the 'current affairs' shows like Today Tonight, it doesn't make whatever dispute they've got showing worthwhile.) But when you tell people you do medicine, and they say wow, how do you deal with it? I want to say "actually, it's just that I'm too stubborn to give up. And God."
Speaking of God, I thanked the guy at church yesterday, the guy who showed me Isaiah 30:18. I didn't say anything, just "thank you for showing that scripture with me" and he said "That's ok" and tapped my shoulder in a knowing manner. It was as if he knew, which he couldn't have. I wonder what God has been telling him.
The orientation talks were presented by the various Professors and Doctors and Chairs and Heads. It was all a little mind-boggling, just the titles themselves. Each of them congratulated us for getting in, told us what a good decision we'd made, and some pretty much hailed us as colleagues. There was some talk about what the different strands are all about (Clinical skills, public health, ethics and professional practice, and biomedical science). But a great deal was said that went along the lines of: "If you have any concerns, just realise that you're not alone, and you can come to [me/student support/your peers] for support." It was nice to hear the Heads and Chairs offer themselves to us, but also rather daunting. Is the course really that bad, that such a big deal is made about support and counselling? (Yes, this is how I think when I am in a cynical phase, which I suspect I am in right now.)
Much was said about how difficult this course is, and how it's going to be a long and difficult year. Actually, not a lot was said about it but it was certainly repeated a few times. The Head of School said "It's a long and difficult year which leads into another long and difficult year which leads into 2 difficult years of clinical practice" and I thought, you might as well add: "which leads into a long and difficult career". I realise now that I probably need to cut out some church stuff. Currently I attend Saturday afternoon youth group and Sunday morning service, and there is Wednesday night bible study too, to commense whenever our leader can negociate better work hours. I can't bear to part with any of them really. But if it came down to it, I suppose I will sacrifice Saturday afternoons. I also plan to work some weekends too. I get a headache just thinking about it. I need to plan, to rationalise, to be organised, and to work efficiently. Everything that I'm not.
It strikes me how people act when I tell them I'm a medicine student. Oh, wow, they say. You must be so smart. I have difficulty figuring out how I should act when people do that, so I just smile. It is enough that my parents brag about me, but I noted something strange this sunday. People at church are doing it too. This Sunday my bible study leader did it, and it's the second time someone from church paid me a great deal of praise to a stranger in front of me. My achievements are really just nothing, but I must admit it makes a great story, and, told the right way (with the appropriate pauses), it makes people say wow. (But the same trick is done by the 'current affairs' shows like Today Tonight, it doesn't make whatever dispute they've got showing worthwhile.) But when you tell people you do medicine, and they say wow, how do you deal with it? I want to say "actually, it's just that I'm too stubborn to give up. And God."
Speaking of God, I thanked the guy at church yesterday, the guy who showed me Isaiah 30:18. I didn't say anything, just "thank you for showing that scripture with me" and he said "That's ok" and tapped my shoulder in a knowing manner. It was as if he knew, which he couldn't have. I wonder what God has been telling him.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Some notes to SuperSida readers
Just a few quick notes.
- I am quite happy to discuss things like the medicine course, the admissions process, God, and quite a few other things that I may write about. But mostly, when I write about my personal problems, I just did it to get it off my chest. Please don't discuss them with me, particularly if you know me personally. If you know me then you'd know that I will be fine. Please don't embarrass me by mentioning my blog to me.
- If you do want to be of assistance, just be forgiving if my mannerism is a little dry or cold or humourless or abrupt or cynical, or if it appears that it takes a great effort for me to smile. It's not you, it's me.
- Please don't embarrass me by mentioning my blog to me.
- Please don't embarrass me by mentioning my blog to me.
- Please don't embarrass me by mentioning my blog to me.
- Please don't embarrass me by mentioning my blog to me.
Um. I think that's it. You get the gist. Happy reading.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Where Sida considers wrist-slashing and solace is found in God
Actually, I didn't really consider wrist-slashing. But it was an attention-grabbing title, yes?
No, I know my anatomy far too well to wrist-slash. The image of the tendons and reticulums and superficial veins of the wrist (rote memorised in Anatomy) has stuck to my mind. I can imagine myself applying razor to wrist, thinking: "Is that the tendon of my palmaris longrus I'm going through? It would be, it's the only one not within the flexor reticulum". Actually even that wouldn't be possible. I am far too much a coward.
The suspense must be killing you. I must disclose, now, what I am talking about.
It was a desire to turn inner pain and converge it into something physical, a physical pain that would be easier to bear, a physical pain that is almost tangible, a physical pain that a panadol (or two) could dull. It also stemmed from anger, although who the anger was directed at was uncertain. There is no one to get angry at, and yet I am angry. There is no one to punish, to yell at. Only an inner couldron, toiling and bubbling, as Shakespeare would have said. (This is good, I will record this feeling, one day it may help me to work with others in a similar situation when I'm a doctor)
She said to me, "You are my strength." And I felt like yelling. I am not your strength. Don't you think this affects me too? I have been watching all these years, all my life, silent and stoic. Yes, I listened silently as you moaned to me all these years, all your troubles that I neither wanted to hear nor should. But this affects me too, I am hurt too, and I am no strength! Don't lean on me! I'll show you how 'strong' I can be! I will do something weak, something stupid, and you will take notice, and realise how weak I can be too! I'll take up drugs, I'll slash myself (well, maybe just prick my thumb a little) and run away and get pregnant!
The source of my problems: one word: parents. I won't say any more on this, since I don't know where to start and I don't feel like talking about it. Only that it's been this way all my life, when I first had memory, when I could recall my mother telling me (in a moment of anger) that it was all my fault. (But, thick as I was, I was too smart to believe it. I had considered the events and circumstances and knew that I had nothing to do with it.)
So it was also a desire to punish someone. Possibly my parents, who rarely considered the impact on me, since I was always a quiet and submissive child. (Unlike my brother, who has the whole family in his grip). Or perhaps (this shames me a little, but it did occur to me) God. You love me? Well watch me do THIS! NOW you will take notice!
I was quite tempted by the idea of it, but just the idea of it. I will never execute this idea, like many other ideas, because of sheer cowardness. But the fact that I had these ideas and were tempted by them disturbed me so I called my best friend. I didn't tell her much, only as much as I wrote here. I feel a little sorry for her, because I remember how awkward I feel when people talk to ME about such things. I know I should talk to a religious friend but I havn't got one close enough (which is really my fault, I hadn't really 'opened up' to anyone). Anyway, she said that people looked up to me. "I look up to you, Sida. You're a Med student". I would have believed her if it weren't for the med student bit: she does law and I know that she'd never look up to me because I'm in Med. But she also added that I have a younger brother, who, in such times, would look to a strong adult.
Damn. Yes God, you have me trapped. I have to be strong now. Help me, give me some of your strength.
I didn't pray much initially during this time. What to pray? God know the plight I'm in. My thoughts regarding God ran something like this: "I will have faith. Who am I not to have faith? But I sure don't know what you're doing up there."
My first "verse of the week" is where Paul describes the holy spirit interceding for us when we can't find the words to pray with.
The spirit must have interceded, because during a particularly difficult time, my brother said to my great surprise: "Sida, can we pray together?" It's surprising because he hasn't really been exposed to much Christian upbringing at home. But we took a walk to be away from the shouting and prayed together, taking turns. It was wonderful. When we got back, we came home to relative peace, although of course the air was still thick and tense.
Today at youth group, after all the activities was finished, a guy decided to show me a verse of the bible for no apparent reason. Isaiah 30:18. I didn't pay a great deal of attention because it was time to practice our choir, and also his bible was of the version where there is a great deal of explanatory text and stuff in square brackets, such that the idea was scattered. But I did remember it so I could look it up when I got home.
"Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you/ he rises to show you compassion./ For the Lord is a God of justice./ Blessed are all who wait for him!"
The message is clear, and I will wait for Him. But it's not easy, to have faith and be patient while everything crashes around you. But seeing His words does make me feel better, even though there is nothing new that I didn't know already.
My recount ends here. Don't worry, I'm not crazy, you can sleep soundly tonight. And I won't do anything silly. I'm to damned cowardly (or too sensible, depends on how you call it) for that. Besides, I have my God. I feel silly to have written this much, I have never exposed my sores so publicly before. But no matter how people judge me having read this, or even if no one reads it, I feel better for writing it all down.
No, I know my anatomy far too well to wrist-slash. The image of the tendons and reticulums and superficial veins of the wrist (rote memorised in Anatomy) has stuck to my mind. I can imagine myself applying razor to wrist, thinking: "Is that the tendon of my palmaris longrus I'm going through? It would be, it's the only one not within the flexor reticulum". Actually even that wouldn't be possible. I am far too much a coward.
The suspense must be killing you. I must disclose, now, what I am talking about.
It was a desire to turn inner pain and converge it into something physical, a physical pain that would be easier to bear, a physical pain that is almost tangible, a physical pain that a panadol (or two) could dull. It also stemmed from anger, although who the anger was directed at was uncertain. There is no one to get angry at, and yet I am angry. There is no one to punish, to yell at. Only an inner couldron, toiling and bubbling, as Shakespeare would have said. (This is good, I will record this feeling, one day it may help me to work with others in a similar situation when I'm a doctor)
She said to me, "You are my strength." And I felt like yelling. I am not your strength. Don't you think this affects me too? I have been watching all these years, all my life, silent and stoic. Yes, I listened silently as you moaned to me all these years, all your troubles that I neither wanted to hear nor should. But this affects me too, I am hurt too, and I am no strength! Don't lean on me! I'll show you how 'strong' I can be! I will do something weak, something stupid, and you will take notice, and realise how weak I can be too! I'll take up drugs, I'll slash myself (well, maybe just prick my thumb a little) and run away and get pregnant!
The source of my problems: one word: parents. I won't say any more on this, since I don't know where to start and I don't feel like talking about it. Only that it's been this way all my life, when I first had memory, when I could recall my mother telling me (in a moment of anger) that it was all my fault. (But, thick as I was, I was too smart to believe it. I had considered the events and circumstances and knew that I had nothing to do with it.)
So it was also a desire to punish someone. Possibly my parents, who rarely considered the impact on me, since I was always a quiet and submissive child. (Unlike my brother, who has the whole family in his grip). Or perhaps (this shames me a little, but it did occur to me) God. You love me? Well watch me do THIS! NOW you will take notice!
I was quite tempted by the idea of it, but just the idea of it. I will never execute this idea, like many other ideas, because of sheer cowardness. But the fact that I had these ideas and were tempted by them disturbed me so I called my best friend. I didn't tell her much, only as much as I wrote here. I feel a little sorry for her, because I remember how awkward I feel when people talk to ME about such things. I know I should talk to a religious friend but I havn't got one close enough (which is really my fault, I hadn't really 'opened up' to anyone). Anyway, she said that people looked up to me. "I look up to you, Sida. You're a Med student". I would have believed her if it weren't for the med student bit: she does law and I know that she'd never look up to me because I'm in Med. But she also added that I have a younger brother, who, in such times, would look to a strong adult.
Damn. Yes God, you have me trapped. I have to be strong now. Help me, give me some of your strength.
I didn't pray much initially during this time. What to pray? God know the plight I'm in. My thoughts regarding God ran something like this: "I will have faith. Who am I not to have faith? But I sure don't know what you're doing up there."
My first "verse of the week" is where Paul describes the holy spirit interceding for us when we can't find the words to pray with.
The spirit must have interceded, because during a particularly difficult time, my brother said to my great surprise: "Sida, can we pray together?" It's surprising because he hasn't really been exposed to much Christian upbringing at home. But we took a walk to be away from the shouting and prayed together, taking turns. It was wonderful. When we got back, we came home to relative peace, although of course the air was still thick and tense.
Today at youth group, after all the activities was finished, a guy decided to show me a verse of the bible for no apparent reason. Isaiah 30:18. I didn't pay a great deal of attention because it was time to practice our choir, and also his bible was of the version where there is a great deal of explanatory text and stuff in square brackets, such that the idea was scattered. But I did remember it so I could look it up when I got home.
"Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you/ he rises to show you compassion./ For the Lord is a God of justice./ Blessed are all who wait for him!"
The message is clear, and I will wait for Him. But it's not easy, to have faith and be patient while everything crashes around you. But seeing His words does make me feel better, even though there is nothing new that I didn't know already.
My recount ends here. Don't worry, I'm not crazy, you can sleep soundly tonight. And I won't do anything silly. I'm to damned cowardly (or too sensible, depends on how you call it) for that. Besides, I have my God. I feel silly to have written this much, I have never exposed my sores so publicly before. But no matter how people judge me having read this, or even if no one reads it, I feel better for writing it all down.
Monday, January 15, 2007
update
It's been ages since I wrote in here. And do you know, the longer I put it off the more I want to put it off. At this rate I will loose all my readers, if I havn't already, and if i had any to start off with.
A lot has happened since I last wrote, as is usually the case with long periods extending over Christmas. My church's Christmas concert was a success in my view, in particular the item in which I partook in. But then a mother always thinks her child is beautiful, so the audience may have felt otherwise.
I also went on a week-long road trip to Airlie Beach, which on the coast of Central Queensland, about two hours north of Mackay. It is about 14 hours drive from Brisbane. On the road, and cruising around the famous Whitsunday Islands, I realised how beautiful God's creation is, or at least God's creation in Australia (hehe). The Great Barrier Reef, in which I have scuba'ed before, and in which I only snorkeled this time, was particularly breath-taking. I also realised that an 8yo boy does not shut up unless he is asleep. There were times, in the long car ride, that I felt like gagging him for some peace and quiet. When I tell him to stop talking, he hums. Nothing like hearing the Twelve Days of Christmas over and over and over, days after Christmas is over. As he begged to go to the toilet, I toyed with the idea of leaving him there. But of course we didn't: he knows our address and so will probably find his way home again (along with a Today Tonight TV crew) anyway.
Nothing remarkable has happened since I came back, except now I'm on the 'casual' list now for work, which means I have short notice to come to work but I get paid a lot more than before. I went to see Joyce Meyer this weekend too. I have never been to a conference of this sort so I really enjoyed it. She really is a great speaker, very stirring. In fact I personally think that she speaks better than she writes. (Joyce Meyer, by the way, is a famous Christian writer from the USA). I didn't make it much past the 2nd chapter (or thereabouts) of her Battlefield of the Mind, but I suppose I will pick it up again.
It is quite easy to hear her speak, and clap and say "amen!", and quite another to come home and apply it. I will try, of course.
I start uni next week. I feel like my holidays have been much too short, I only have one week left. There were many things that I'd intended to do which I'd not done yet, which I can't be bothered to do now. (Admittedly, these are mostly to do with partying, but still.)
In a week's time I will be a med student.
A lot has happened since I last wrote, as is usually the case with long periods extending over Christmas. My church's Christmas concert was a success in my view, in particular the item in which I partook in. But then a mother always thinks her child is beautiful, so the audience may have felt otherwise.
I also went on a week-long road trip to Airlie Beach, which on the coast of Central Queensland, about two hours north of Mackay. It is about 14 hours drive from Brisbane. On the road, and cruising around the famous Whitsunday Islands, I realised how beautiful God's creation is, or at least God's creation in Australia (hehe). The Great Barrier Reef, in which I have scuba'ed before, and in which I only snorkeled this time, was particularly breath-taking. I also realised that an 8yo boy does not shut up unless he is asleep. There were times, in the long car ride, that I felt like gagging him for some peace and quiet. When I tell him to stop talking, he hums. Nothing like hearing the Twelve Days of Christmas over and over and over, days after Christmas is over. As he begged to go to the toilet, I toyed with the idea of leaving him there. But of course we didn't: he knows our address and so will probably find his way home again (along with a Today Tonight TV crew) anyway.
Nothing remarkable has happened since I came back, except now I'm on the 'casual' list now for work, which means I have short notice to come to work but I get paid a lot more than before. I went to see Joyce Meyer this weekend too. I have never been to a conference of this sort so I really enjoyed it. She really is a great speaker, very stirring. In fact I personally think that she speaks better than she writes. (Joyce Meyer, by the way, is a famous Christian writer from the USA). I didn't make it much past the 2nd chapter (or thereabouts) of her Battlefield of the Mind, but I suppose I will pick it up again.
It is quite easy to hear her speak, and clap and say "amen!", and quite another to come home and apply it. I will try, of course.
I start uni next week. I feel like my holidays have been much too short, I only have one week left. There were many things that I'd intended to do which I'd not done yet, which I can't be bothered to do now. (Admittedly, these are mostly to do with partying, but still.)
In a week's time I will be a med student.
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