Time to buy a bikini...

They said to us, in the first week or so: "You will meet some amazing people, develope some amazing friendships, that will last the rest of your lives. Because you do everything together, you will get to know your PBL group really well..."

I underestimated that last statement. Allow me to explain. We need to learn certain things involving the chest - for example, listening to breath sounds, heart beats, taking ECG's, etc etc. We learn to do these things on our peers, which means one guy from the group takes off his shirt and the rest of us poke and prod and then he has a go on someone else, usually another guy. But, sooner of later, one needs to learn to listen to female chests too, which is why sometimes girls wear a bikini top and the guys practice on us. Well, that is how it is supposed to go in theory. In the end, when we get assessed, we don't know whether our 'patient' is male or female.

I don't actually own a bikini top. In fact, the only time my shoulders ever see the light of day is when I am at home, or when I am wearing my one-piece. I had been meaning to go buy a bikini, but I keep forgetting, and I don't actually know how you would go about buying one anyway. How does the sizing work?

So anyway, this morning, at 6.30am, I woke up and thought: crap, we have respiratory assessment today. I don't have a bikini. I need something without underwire. Rummaging through my drawer (in a rush, as usual), I come up with the only bra I own that doesn't have underwire. It's old, it's got fluff all over it, and looks strangely mangled. Somehow, in the early-morning-fuzzy state that my brain was in, I thought: it will do.

Fast forwards to about 5pm. The assessor was male. The person being assessed (ie examining my respiratory system) was also male (let's call him X... hehe). So I found myself sitting there wearing a tank top (about as much exposed as I ever get) while X checked my fingers, eyes, nose, mouth, tonsils. Then he says, pretending to be the doctor: "Ok, Sida, I'll just get you to take your top off if you don't mind...".

What? This? But I wore an uncomfortable underwire-less bra today so you wouldn't have to do that!

"Er? This? Really?" I said
"Er, well..." Says X, turning to look at the assessor.
"Well, that is usually the way we do it. But only if you're comfortable." Says the assessor, kindly.
No, I am not comfortable with it! It's not that I am a prude, really. I am not comfortable with showing off my mangled old bra. I might be OK if I were wearing a bikini, or a normal bra with a bit more coverage. But right now? Comfortable with it? Of course not!

"Er, no, that's ok." I said. So the tank top is off. I had never felt so embarrassed in my life.

Of course, the rest of the examination was completed, in a typical doctor-patient manner. My friend X carried it off with professionalism, and I was soon able to put my shirt back on. (Actually, earlier that day, he'd said: "Well, we've all seen breasts before anyway." I wonder if he realises that he may be used to seeing breasts, but breasts aren't neccesarily used to seeing him. But either way, let me reiterate that I was not mistreated at all by my mock doctor (haha)... It's all me being the prude that I am. (Yes, I know that I just contradicted myself. It happens.) )

So, dear reader, I'll bet you're just in tears right now. That's right, go ahead and laugh at my misadventures. What does one learn from this experience?

Well, for one thing, buy a bikini before the cardiovascular assessment. Let my story be a warning to all girls out there who are contemplating doing the MBBS course.

Secondly, and (perhaps) more importantly, to remember that we (health professionals) may have seen all parts of the human anatomy a gazillion times (which I, as a radiographer, have), the said human anatomy may not be used to seeing us. What will one day become a routine part of our job, will be an embarrassing and perhaps even distressing experience for our patients. And, never underestimate the amount of humiliation experienced by a 20 year old asian girl, faced with two male colleagues on a mock hospital bed.