This sunday I was listening to a Christian radio station while driving to church, and I heard a guy praying for the audience. It was a very nice prayer, asking God to bless the listeners and guide them and let them be a light for the people around them (ie non-christians).
Towards the end, he prayed that the listeners may have "success without compromise".
This stuck in my mind and I have to admit when I first heard it I was a little taken aback. Of course what exactly he meant by "success without compromise" I'm unsure of. But when I first heard it I thought it meant that we may have success (in the normal sense of the word, meaning worldly success) without compromising our Christian values. I guess it could also mean the other way around: that we be successful in a spiritual sense (pleasing God and being a light to others) without compromising our worldly needs.
Why did this statement offend me slightly? It's what we all would love to have, right? The best of both worlds - to be successful in life without compromising our conscience. I admit that I would love to have this 'success without compromise'. Currently, I spend a lot of time studying and the amount of time I spend serving others, or even just participating with others in religion, is compromised. That offends my conscience. I try to maintain my bible reading and prayers everyday but sometimes I am just so tired I only read a few lines of the bible before I know I will need to shut it or I will sleep with my head on top of it (and ruin my lovely expensive leather-bound silver-trimmed blue-ribboned bible). Success without compromise, yes, that would be nice. (I am being honest here...)
But to pray for it? I feel it is almost like saying to God: "Yes, I love you, but I also love the world, so please don't make me compromise my success in the world."... or "The worldly things are so important to me I don't want have to compromise them". Of course, I am not saying that following God necessarily means that we have to be poor, in fact, there is a school of thought that God intends for us to enjoy the fruits of His creation. But to pray to God that we don't have to compromise?
As I said before, I am currently in a state of 'compromise'. If I go to all the extra youth group activities, I don't study, and I fall behind, or at least feel like I am falling behind. If I don't, I feel guilty. I have never prayed for Him to take that guilt away, I just rely on his mercy and understanding. I also try to make my learning experience an act of worship, reminding myself of the ingenuity of His creation when I study. I try to remind myself to do mini-prayers throughout the day (something I read from a Philip Yancey book). I pray for Him to forgive me, to open my mind to his creation, and to allow me to be a good doctor one day. But never 'success without compromise'. The idea of it itself is strange.
I am in the process of finding in the bible all the bits that indicate our relation to the worldly, and how we are to enjoy this 'success'. This is an interesting topic, so I will probably consult my bible study leaders and the bible itself, and post here with the results. This is an appeal to whoever is reading this: what do you think of this "Success without compromise"? Perhaps I misunderstood the guy. All comments welcome. Even if you know me personally. Really.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Miserere Mei, Deus
I changed the "Sing for the moment" to "Miserere Mei, Deus", the great chant by Gregorio Allegri. Laudate Dominum by Mozart is beautiful, but the sound was of a poor quality and besides it's time for a change.
I don't usually make a blog entry about changes in music and in 'verse of the week', but I feel I must explain myself, seeing as I think that Gregorian chants written in the 16th century is probably not everyone's cup of tea. But be open minded, listen to it, with the volume nice and low. It's a beautiful piece. (Keep listening to it, there is a wonderful soprano bit in the middle.) I don't usually like chants myself but I make an exception for "Miserere Mei, Deus". (When the going gets tough, there are two circumstances in which I can have a good cry, one is listening to this chant, the other is sitting infront of the piano (which I play badly) when no one else is home).
Miserere Mei, Deus means "have mercy on me, O God", the first verse of the Psalm 51 (which is also a beautiful piece). Allegri wrote it for some part of the long complex Catholic mass, and some pope along the line liked it so much he declared it must not be played anywhere outside of the Sistine Chapel at the appointed time. Transcription and copying of the work was forbidden.
The story follows that Mozart, at age 12, in 1770 (a few hundred years down the track), visited the Sistine Chapel with his father Leopald during Easter, and heard the Miserere. That night, on returning to his lodgings, he wrote the entire piece down from memory, returning later with it hidden in his hat to make minor corrections.
Ok, well, I just felt like sharing that with you. Next time I will put something contemporary on, really.
I don't usually make a blog entry about changes in music and in 'verse of the week', but I feel I must explain myself, seeing as I think that Gregorian chants written in the 16th century is probably not everyone's cup of tea. But be open minded, listen to it, with the volume nice and low. It's a beautiful piece. (Keep listening to it, there is a wonderful soprano bit in the middle.) I don't usually like chants myself but I make an exception for "Miserere Mei, Deus". (When the going gets tough, there are two circumstances in which I can have a good cry, one is listening to this chant, the other is sitting infront of the piano (which I play badly) when no one else is home).
Miserere Mei, Deus means "have mercy on me, O God", the first verse of the Psalm 51 (which is also a beautiful piece). Allegri wrote it for some part of the long complex Catholic mass, and some pope along the line liked it so much he declared it must not be played anywhere outside of the Sistine Chapel at the appointed time. Transcription and copying of the work was forbidden.
The story follows that Mozart, at age 12, in 1770 (a few hundred years down the track), visited the Sistine Chapel with his father Leopald during Easter, and heard the Miserere. That night, on returning to his lodgings, he wrote the entire piece down from memory, returning later with it hidden in his hat to make minor corrections.
Ok, well, I just felt like sharing that with you. Next time I will put something contemporary on, really.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Medicine is crazy
Medicine, and everyone in it, or associated with it, is crazy.
I have been a med student for 4 weeks. A good proportion of my lecturers and tutors is crazy. The course is crazy, the workload is crazy. The other students are crazy. The immune system is crazy. Everyone, and every thing, is crazy. Which can only mean one thing - that I'm crazy, and everyone else is normal.
I have been a med student for 4 weeks. A good proportion of my lecturers and tutors is crazy. The course is crazy, the workload is crazy. The other students are crazy. The immune system is crazy. Everyone, and every thing, is crazy. Which can only mean one thing - that I'm crazy, and everyone else is normal.
- The teaching staff is crazy. Many of them fit into stereotypes: eg- the hard-core pathologist, the confusing ethicist, the nurse who says, as a joke, "next time, bring chocolates". But then, there's the pharmacist who went through the mathematics of pharmacokinesis in one hour. And the other pharmacist who told us that pharmacists are obsessive-compulsive-anal-retentives. And the PA hospital orientation lecture, taking place at 8am, just to tell us that there is a library there and that we need to be nice to the staff and patients. crazy. (At this point I must say, my PBL tutor is lovely.)
- The students are crazy. They somehow seem to find it okay. No one feels like it's hard or overwhelming. Everyone is having a ball. Perhaps they are just not admitting it? Or is it just me? Next Friday they are having a "sports day", where med students dress up in scrubs and drink and get red dye over each other. Those crazy med students drink like fishes. How can they drink so much when there is so much work to do? Someone is crazy, and I prefer to think it's them.
- The immune system is crazy, in a good, interesting, but crazy way.
The reason why I'm complaining so much on blogger is, I've realised, because I have no one else to do it to. The other med students are so on top of it all, when I ask them how they are finding it, they say "good, good", even if they don't have a science background. When I talk to my non-med friends about it, they just say to me: "Sida, you're smart, you'll be alright" or something along those lines. I know they say it because they don't know what else to say. But I don't feel smart right now, and I don't feel like I'll be alright, and when they say that, I feel like I'm going to crash and burn even more. I guess what I need is validation, someone to say: "You're not nuts, Sida. It's ok to feel like you're going to drown." (Oh boy, I've applied the communication skills lecture to myself... now I KNOW I'm going nuts.)
*sigh* So there we go, another complaining blog entry.
Um, I did have fun at microbiology last week. We were doing a gram-stain (which is supposed to go: purple mixture (forgot name) - water wash- iodine - water wash - alcohol - safranin). We put on the purple thing first, then the safranin, then realised the alcohol comes before the safranin, so we washed the safranin off, then alcohol, then safranin again. Then we (my lab partner and I) looked at the iodine and thought: where does this come in? When we realised, we washed our slide with alcohol again, and then put iodine on, and then safranin. The gram stain is supposed to come out purple or pink, depending on the bacteria on the slide... my partner and I were dreaming of how we might have invented a new staining method and be rewarded with a nobel prize, but when we put it under the microscope, it was just a slush of brown. When the tutor asked us how we were going, the response was unanimous - "Fine, fine, thanks."
My microbiology lab partner is a cool canadian dude with a cool accent and a neuroscience major. But he's bloddy smart. Everyone's so bloddy smart.
Oh, it's Chinese New year's eve. Happy new year, everyone who reads this. Living away from China, one doesn't get in as much spirit as one should.
Monday, February 12, 2007
my thoughts on 'The Secret'
Hmmm. Actually I'm finding difficulty thinking of a diplomatic, nice, unprovocative way to say 'it's a load of crap'.
To anyone who is unaware of what 'The Secret' is, it is the "law of attraction", which states (more or less) that the universe responds to your thoughts and the things you dwell your mind on. If you dwell your mind on positive things, things you would like to have or would like to have happen to you, the universe reponds to that and gives you positive things. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csiAsbPxmmY if you want to see a video on it.
The first time I saw it was on TV, channel 9 (or 7, I forgot). I didn't watch all of it, but I watched enough to get the gist of what they were saying (after all the so-called 'law' of attraction is very simple).
It's rather interesting, because we've always had a law of attraction, called "Murphy's Law". When they showed the guy thinking "I'm going to be in late, I don't want to be late" and then getting stuck in a traffic jam, I thought: that's the Murphy's Law! They stole Murphy's Law!
Also, interestingly, the Chinese have also always had a similar theory, and they called the 'positive' and 'negative' things 'qi', meaning literally air, but more aptly translated as 'energy'. A chinese would hope to bring good 'energy' into their lives by saying auspicious things to each other at New Years, and avoiding topics like illness and death (especially at the start of the new year). When my brother says things like "don't crash", he always gets growled at by my mum. Neither of my parents wanted to listen when I wanted to discuss the possibility of organ donation with them.
Of course, although this is interesting, it doesn't make it true. (The Chinese also believed in dragons and gods and buddas and demons and ancestor-worship.) There are truthful elements and preposterous elements to this theory. Let me go through the truthful elements first.
The "law of attraction" (I really hate to call it that, though) promotes positive thinking, which is good. It is true that quite often, if we say, for example, "I'm too dumb to get into medicine", then we probably won't. But I believe it's not because the universe responds to your thoughts, I believe that when you say "I'm too dumb", you are confirming it in your own mind and therefore have less motivation and set yourself up to fail.
Have you ever surprised yourself, though? I know I have. Countless times, I think "crap, I'm going to miss the train, I don't wanna miss the train, I'm going to be late for work," but I catch the train, or I'm not very late at all. When I did my Gamsat the first time, I thought I was going to get around 64, and I was feeling quite good. I got 60. Second time, I was more realistic, and thought for sure that I will get no more than 3 above my first score. I was very worried that I'd done worse the second time, it was my main concern. By the grace of God, (and I mean it) I got 71. 2005 I was on the 60th percentile (I achieved higher or the same as 60% of candidates), and in 2006 I was on the 96th percentile. If the 'law of attraction' were true, I should have gotten lower. Despite my high score, I was worried that I wouldn't get in. I'd mentioned in the interview that I would work during my studies, that I was Christian, and that I had no community involvement worth talking about ( I shouldn't have worried but I did). But I still got in, with a Commonwealth-Supported-Place.
It is difficult for me to refute the 'law of attraction' using logic and reasoning, as I am not a philosopher and have no experience/training in logic. I can only use the above example. But consider if the universe really did 'respond' to our thoughts and notions, does that mean it's personified? How does a physical entity such as the universe, in which we live, become personified? If the universe (or indeed any super-human entity) 'responds' to our thoughts and desires in such a indiscrimminate, mechanical, constant manner, such that we can manipulate it (and our outcomes), what meaning does that give our lives? A predictable mechanism controls our fates, we control that mechanism, but to what end? Perhaps we will achieve material 'success', but that is no longer nessecarily due to our endevours, only that we manipulated the universe. Anyone can do it.
Interestingly, in the film clip, they recommend you write down what you want, but start off with "I'm thankful for..." but who do we thank? The universe? I'm always amused when non-religious people say they are thankful.
And of course I cannot end a commentary like this without discussing my religious view. God raised up many people that did not have positive attitudes. The most famous is Moses, who thought himself inarticulate and clumsy, and was concentrating on the negatives of God's commands (that the task was so big and himself so incapable). One of our youth groups is named after Gideon, who thought himself small and weak but was used by God to be a mighty warrior and defeated a great army. (It is a favourite story in our church, and "The LORD is with you, mighty warrior." (Judges 6:12 NIV) is commonly heard in encouragement to young people. ) I do try to have confidence, and try to be positive (which, at times, is difficult), but not because of "The Secret", but because I believe that, ultimately, I am in God's hands. As much as I do complain, I do believe that God will take care of me. It's very unchristian of me to complain I guess. It's just that there is much to complain about sometimes...
This ends my commentary on 'The Secret'. I don't think I did a good job of explaining or rationalising a theory that I believe is illogical. But there it is. By the way, think_next, do I know you?
To anyone who is unaware of what 'The Secret' is, it is the "law of attraction", which states (more or less) that the universe responds to your thoughts and the things you dwell your mind on. If you dwell your mind on positive things, things you would like to have or would like to have happen to you, the universe reponds to that and gives you positive things. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csiAsbPxmmY if you want to see a video on it.
The first time I saw it was on TV, channel 9 (or 7, I forgot). I didn't watch all of it, but I watched enough to get the gist of what they were saying (after all the so-called 'law' of attraction is very simple).
It's rather interesting, because we've always had a law of attraction, called "Murphy's Law". When they showed the guy thinking "I'm going to be in late, I don't want to be late" and then getting stuck in a traffic jam, I thought: that's the Murphy's Law! They stole Murphy's Law!
Also, interestingly, the Chinese have also always had a similar theory, and they called the 'positive' and 'negative' things 'qi', meaning literally air, but more aptly translated as 'energy'. A chinese would hope to bring good 'energy' into their lives by saying auspicious things to each other at New Years, and avoiding topics like illness and death (especially at the start of the new year). When my brother says things like "don't crash", he always gets growled at by my mum. Neither of my parents wanted to listen when I wanted to discuss the possibility of organ donation with them.
Of course, although this is interesting, it doesn't make it true. (The Chinese also believed in dragons and gods and buddas and demons and ancestor-worship.) There are truthful elements and preposterous elements to this theory. Let me go through the truthful elements first.
The "law of attraction" (I really hate to call it that, though) promotes positive thinking, which is good. It is true that quite often, if we say, for example, "I'm too dumb to get into medicine", then we probably won't. But I believe it's not because the universe responds to your thoughts, I believe that when you say "I'm too dumb", you are confirming it in your own mind and therefore have less motivation and set yourself up to fail.
Have you ever surprised yourself, though? I know I have. Countless times, I think "crap, I'm going to miss the train, I don't wanna miss the train, I'm going to be late for work," but I catch the train, or I'm not very late at all. When I did my Gamsat the first time, I thought I was going to get around 64, and I was feeling quite good. I got 60. Second time, I was more realistic, and thought for sure that I will get no more than 3 above my first score. I was very worried that I'd done worse the second time, it was my main concern. By the grace of God, (and I mean it) I got 71. 2005 I was on the 60th percentile (I achieved higher or the same as 60% of candidates), and in 2006 I was on the 96th percentile. If the 'law of attraction' were true, I should have gotten lower. Despite my high score, I was worried that I wouldn't get in. I'd mentioned in the interview that I would work during my studies, that I was Christian, and that I had no community involvement worth talking about ( I shouldn't have worried but I did). But I still got in, with a Commonwealth-Supported-Place.
It is difficult for me to refute the 'law of attraction' using logic and reasoning, as I am not a philosopher and have no experience/training in logic. I can only use the above example. But consider if the universe really did 'respond' to our thoughts and notions, does that mean it's personified? How does a physical entity such as the universe, in which we live, become personified? If the universe (or indeed any super-human entity) 'responds' to our thoughts and desires in such a indiscrimminate, mechanical, constant manner, such that we can manipulate it (and our outcomes), what meaning does that give our lives? A predictable mechanism controls our fates, we control that mechanism, but to what end? Perhaps we will achieve material 'success', but that is no longer nessecarily due to our endevours, only that we manipulated the universe. Anyone can do it.
Interestingly, in the film clip, they recommend you write down what you want, but start off with "I'm thankful for..." but who do we thank? The universe? I'm always amused when non-religious people say they are thankful.
And of course I cannot end a commentary like this without discussing my religious view. God raised up many people that did not have positive attitudes. The most famous is Moses, who thought himself inarticulate and clumsy, and was concentrating on the negatives of God's commands (that the task was so big and himself so incapable). One of our youth groups is named after Gideon, who thought himself small and weak but was used by God to be a mighty warrior and defeated a great army. (It is a favourite story in our church, and "The LORD is with you, mighty warrior." (Judges 6:12 NIV) is commonly heard in encouragement to young people. ) I do try to have confidence, and try to be positive (which, at times, is difficult), but not because of "The Secret", but because I believe that, ultimately, I am in God's hands. As much as I do complain, I do believe that God will take care of me. It's very unchristian of me to complain I guess. It's just that there is much to complain about sometimes...
This ends my commentary on 'The Secret'. I don't think I did a good job of explaining or rationalising a theory that I believe is illogical. But there it is. By the way, think_next, do I know you?
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
congratulate me
at library again. leaving now. It is 5 pm, I have been here since 9 am, and all except an hour (ok, hour and a half) of that time I was actually studying. Not procrastinating, studying. Not dreading or stressing, but studying. Woohoo...
I could probably do it for longer, I drank enough sugary tea to last me a while. But it takes me ages to get home, and besides, it's time to leave. I'm sure if I don't get up now my muscles are going to atrophy so much that I'm going to be stuck here.
I could probably do it for longer, I drank enough sugary tea to last me a while. But it takes me ages to get home, and besides, it's time to leave. I'm sure if I don't get up now my muscles are going to atrophy so much that I'm going to be stuck here.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
quick post
I am currently at the library (again). This is a quick post before I get up and leave. I feel as if I should be staying here for longer, I havn't actually accomplished much in the hour and half that I've been in here. But I'm starving and I'm sure that if I stare at this immunology text book any longer I will burst into tears, which will be very embarrassing.
Yes, you heard right. Immunology.
There is something about immunology. I just look at it, at the diagrams labelled with things like "CD2b3b5b" (or whatever) and there is this thing that happens in my mind. I think it's like a survival mechanism, that just says: "Sida, this is much too complicated. Leave it. They sell great pizza on this campus somewhere."
Now we know Sida won't be an immunologist when she is a grown-up doctor...
Does stress and studying immunology and waking up at 6am make one less attractive? I'm almost sure it's doing that to me. I have blue bits under my eyes and my skin has gone a funny colour. In the past, it used to go grey when I study like this, and I used to scare myself when I look in the mirror because I look like a dead person from a horror movie. This time it's different, my skin being darker due to my holiday to the Whitsundays. Instead of being a deathly pale grey, it is a sallow sort of yellow that makes me look like I'm in the late stages of some liver disease.
As I really don't have time and energy for boys at the moment, I guess the fact that I'm currently repulsive to boys is not such a bad thing. I am curious, though. I wonder what I will find if I look up "attractiveness" and "immunology" (or just "stress") in Pubmed, the online medical journals database. Some one, some time, some where, probably did a study on it.
Yes, you heard right. Immunology.
There is something about immunology. I just look at it, at the diagrams labelled with things like "CD2b3b5b" (or whatever) and there is this thing that happens in my mind. I think it's like a survival mechanism, that just says: "Sida, this is much too complicated. Leave it. They sell great pizza on this campus somewhere."
Now we know Sida won't be an immunologist when she is a grown-up doctor...
Does stress and studying immunology and waking up at 6am make one less attractive? I'm almost sure it's doing that to me. I have blue bits under my eyes and my skin has gone a funny colour. In the past, it used to go grey when I study like this, and I used to scare myself when I look in the mirror because I look like a dead person from a horror movie. This time it's different, my skin being darker due to my holiday to the Whitsundays. Instead of being a deathly pale grey, it is a sallow sort of yellow that makes me look like I'm in the late stages of some liver disease.
As I really don't have time and energy for boys at the moment, I guess the fact that I'm currently repulsive to boys is not such a bad thing. I am curious, though. I wonder what I will find if I look up "attractiveness" and "immunology" (or just "stress") in Pubmed, the online medical journals database. Some one, some time, some where, probably did a study on it.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Where Sida becomes a student again and tries to resist despair
You may ask: since Sida is in medicine, which she's wanted for a long time, why does she need to despair?
I am in my 2nd week of medicine, and they (the educators, that is) say that these two weeks are the easiest, it gets tougher from here.
There is no easy way to express the plight I'm in. I can only give an example. Last week, in my Problem-Based-Learning group (a sort of study group, PBL for short), someone mentioned baroreceptors and chemoreceptors and everyone knew exactly what they were. I was the only one who had never heard of them before. The everything goes so fast, everything just swishes around in my brain in some sort of incoherent soup. And people assume that I'd know some things since I did indeed have science-health background. (But it's radiography! It's like photography with physics!)
But I'm resisting despair, mainly because I'm sure if I work stubbornly at it the way I work stubbornly at everything, it will work out. I am taking a rest from study, it is 4pm, and I have been in the library for 3 hours. The incoherent soup is (somewhat) less incoherent and certainly less daunting. Besides, I do like learning and I find the human body interesting, so if I get over the fact that everyone else seems to know more than me, I may actually enjoy myself. (This really sound like I have a pride issue doesn't it? Hm, perhaps I do...)
I never did consider my income to be large or even significant, but now I do feel it. Going from working full-time, to working one Saturday every 3 weeks (3 hours over 3 weeks) does definately put a strain on my finances. But I did get a call from the rival company today, so I may get some more work.
Um. Surprisingly, I have run out of things to complain about. Except that the air-con here in the library is really really breezy, it's freezing in here.
I can feel the library (and the abundance of medical students around me) doing me mental damage. I think I will go home now.
I am in my 2nd week of medicine, and they (the educators, that is) say that these two weeks are the easiest, it gets tougher from here.
There is no easy way to express the plight I'm in. I can only give an example. Last week, in my Problem-Based-Learning group (a sort of study group, PBL for short), someone mentioned baroreceptors and chemoreceptors and everyone knew exactly what they were. I was the only one who had never heard of them before. The everything goes so fast, everything just swishes around in my brain in some sort of incoherent soup. And people assume that I'd know some things since I did indeed have science-health background. (But it's radiography! It's like photography with physics!)
But I'm resisting despair, mainly because I'm sure if I work stubbornly at it the way I work stubbornly at everything, it will work out. I am taking a rest from study, it is 4pm, and I have been in the library for 3 hours. The incoherent soup is (somewhat) less incoherent and certainly less daunting. Besides, I do like learning and I find the human body interesting, so if I get over the fact that everyone else seems to know more than me, I may actually enjoy myself. (This really sound like I have a pride issue doesn't it? Hm, perhaps I do...)
I never did consider my income to be large or even significant, but now I do feel it. Going from working full-time, to working one Saturday every 3 weeks (3 hours over 3 weeks) does definately put a strain on my finances. But I did get a call from the rival company today, so I may get some more work.
Um. Surprisingly, I have run out of things to complain about. Except that the air-con here in the library is really really breezy, it's freezing in here.
I can feel the library (and the abundance of medical students around me) doing me mental damage. I think I will go home now.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
On recieving free stuff
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas to all Sida's loyal readers! (although I think that is possibly only think_next and Stacy, and even Stacy hasn't been seen lately. She has gone holidaying, and has (presumably) better things to do...)
Christmas has always been a time to look back, and I've always hated looking back. Like the song: "So this is Christmas, what have you done?" and the answer has always been more or less: nothing.
Compared to all that, I have had a great year. I got into medicine, and I opened my heart to God, and started, so to speak, my spiritual pilgrimage. And next year promises to be good too, I'll be studying a course I love, working enough to have some money but not enough to be sick of it, and striving to make every day, every action an act of worship. At this point, I should probably think of some resolutions for next year, but I don't think I will. It'll be just the usual ones - be organised, exercise more, etc.
So I have compiled a short list of the things I learnt this year.
Christmas has always been a time to look back, and I've always hated looking back. Like the song: "So this is Christmas, what have you done?" and the answer has always been more or less: nothing.
Compared to all that, I have had a great year. I got into medicine, and I opened my heart to God, and started, so to speak, my spiritual pilgrimage. And next year promises to be good too, I'll be studying a course I love, working enough to have some money but not enough to be sick of it, and striving to make every day, every action an act of worship. At this point, I should probably think of some resolutions for next year, but I don't think I will. It'll be just the usual ones - be organised, exercise more, etc.
So I have compiled a short list of the things I learnt this year.
- God loves me
- If I do something to strain a muscle such that it hurts a lot, then for the next few days I won't eat chocolate, because that means that the pain would have no gain...
- It is difficult to eat a hamburger while driving a manual car, but it can be done.
- Plants need watering. Particularly ones in a pot
- Boil anything edible with noodles, and it becomes noodle soup
- After drinking any amount of alcohol, it is a good idea to keep one's mouth shut
- Panic is bad
- Driving is a good time to karaoke
- In operating theatres, it is a good idea to ignore the surgeon, and certainly some of the nurses too. If irked enough, one can always entertain the thought of 'tripping over' into their sterile field...
- If you say 'it's all good' enough times, you may be able to fool others, but not yourself.
Merry Christmas and happy 2007.
Monday, December 18, 2006
On service
I know I said before I was going to limit the amount of religious stuff I put on here, but I just thought I'd share my experiences from this Sunday.
I was due to be 'usher' this Sunday, and it was the first time I'd been rostered to do any jobs. (I guess the number of things a new member can be trusted with is limited. The number of things I trust myself to do is limited...) So basically, I was to sit at a table at the entrance, smile nicely at people, and hand to them our weekly service program. If there are new people then I give them a little form that asks for their name and contact details. So I asked my bible study leader how early I should go, and I was thinking about half an hour early, so 9.30am. He said 9am. I was surprised, but I went along at 9.
So there I was, at 9am, sitting at the little table at the front. This position gave me a unique view of the service, because I was behind everyone, behind the chairs, so that I felt like I wasn't really part of the congregation at all. At 9, the place was already abuzz. The chairs were already set up (we use a primary school hall), as were the speakers and sound system, the OHP, and the tables outside for sharing the food. My bible study leader was at the piano, others were practicing their songs, or making last minute touches to the powerpoint slide. People were outside, too, doing what I'm not sure. Everyone was about, busying about something. (Yes, and there I was, sitting at my little spot behind the desk, observing, but not lending a hand).
By the time the actual service started at 10am, there were actually not many people walking through the doors. And I realised that most people were actually already here, part of the bustling workers. A few more families did walk through the door, but that was it. Well over half the congregation were there before the service to help prepare.
At this time I realised the meaning of the word service. This is service. Serving each other, and in doing so, serving God. Actually I knew it before, because I had read it in books, but this is the first time I actually witnessed it. From my position at the desk, it was like a movie where I was disconnected from it all and seeing it as an outsider.
These people give away literally their entire weekend. What kind of young person gives away their entire weekend? I knew that my bible study leader got to church at 8, 2 hours ahead of time. By the looks of it, so did a whole bunch of other people. It's their life, literally. No wonder Christianity strikes fear in my dad's heart. Indeed, what if his daughter left her studies? What if his daughter did the same as the others, when will she find time to study? What if she decides to throw it all away? For something that, to him, is worthless since it gives neither monetary gains nor promises to give monetary gains, at least in this life.
I guess now it's time to express how the experience has affected me. I realised that, as much as I do participate in the church, much of the time I am being served rather than serving. I feel as if this experience should have taught me to serve more, but how? To do what? And after all that, I still don't know how I fit into that picture, the picture of the people bustling about. (To be clear, bustling doesn't come naturally to me. Standing there wondering what I should do comes naturally.). So I'm probably back at where I was before, which is to do whatever I am told to do.
I was due to be 'usher' this Sunday, and it was the first time I'd been rostered to do any jobs. (I guess the number of things a new member can be trusted with is limited. The number of things I trust myself to do is limited...) So basically, I was to sit at a table at the entrance, smile nicely at people, and hand to them our weekly service program. If there are new people then I give them a little form that asks for their name and contact details. So I asked my bible study leader how early I should go, and I was thinking about half an hour early, so 9.30am. He said 9am. I was surprised, but I went along at 9.
So there I was, at 9am, sitting at the little table at the front. This position gave me a unique view of the service, because I was behind everyone, behind the chairs, so that I felt like I wasn't really part of the congregation at all. At 9, the place was already abuzz. The chairs were already set up (we use a primary school hall), as were the speakers and sound system, the OHP, and the tables outside for sharing the food. My bible study leader was at the piano, others were practicing their songs, or making last minute touches to the powerpoint slide. People were outside, too, doing what I'm not sure. Everyone was about, busying about something. (Yes, and there I was, sitting at my little spot behind the desk, observing, but not lending a hand).
By the time the actual service started at 10am, there were actually not many people walking through the doors. And I realised that most people were actually already here, part of the bustling workers. A few more families did walk through the door, but that was it. Well over half the congregation were there before the service to help prepare.
At this time I realised the meaning of the word service. This is service. Serving each other, and in doing so, serving God. Actually I knew it before, because I had read it in books, but this is the first time I actually witnessed it. From my position at the desk, it was like a movie where I was disconnected from it all and seeing it as an outsider.
These people give away literally their entire weekend. What kind of young person gives away their entire weekend? I knew that my bible study leader got to church at 8, 2 hours ahead of time. By the looks of it, so did a whole bunch of other people. It's their life, literally. No wonder Christianity strikes fear in my dad's heart. Indeed, what if his daughter left her studies? What if his daughter did the same as the others, when will she find time to study? What if she decides to throw it all away? For something that, to him, is worthless since it gives neither monetary gains nor promises to give monetary gains, at least in this life.
I guess now it's time to express how the experience has affected me. I realised that, as much as I do participate in the church, much of the time I am being served rather than serving. I feel as if this experience should have taught me to serve more, but how? To do what? And after all that, I still don't know how I fit into that picture, the picture of the people bustling about. (To be clear, bustling doesn't come naturally to me. Standing there wondering what I should do comes naturally.). So I'm probably back at where I was before, which is to do whatever I am told to do.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
my MRBS offer
I recieved an email yesterday from UQ. This is what they said:
Dear Sida:
I would like to inform you that a Medical Rural Bonded Scholarship(MRBS) place has become available. If you are interested in receivingthis scholarship, please let me know as soon as possible (the next dayor so) so I can send you a contract in the mail.
Actually the email was sent on Thursday, so when I read this on Friday morning, you can imagine my panic. I have less than two short hours before work to decide to accept or decline!
Let me describe the scholarship to those who don't know about it. It is a bid by the government to try and get doctors into rural or remote areas. What happens is this: they give you around $23,000 a year, for the duration of your medical degree (four years, accumilating to nearly 100,000). After you graduate, you train as per usual, and after you have reached your destination (whether you want to be a specialist or a GP), you go and work in a rural area for 6 years. If you are a specialist, the 'rural' area can be a large centre such as cairns or toowoomba. If you are a GP it would have to be somewhere more remote than that.
I spent a whole agonising day thinking about it, the money is so nice it's hard to turn down. $23,000 a year as a student, it almost means I don't need to worry about work, and buy myself a niiice laptop and mp3 player and an expensive stethoscope and all that. But then, to give 6 years away post fellowship (which is almost 10 years down the track) is too much. I do have a view to work in rural areas, but only for short times, and only intermittently, and not BOUND to it.
To breach the contract, you will have to give the money back plus interest, but more importantly, you can't work privately and bill to medicare for 12 years.
I chose not to take it in the end, as I don't really want to be bound when my future is still undecided. I don't want to take it only to break the agreement. One day, though, I may regret my decision, I may end up spending 6 years in a rural place anyways (although I doubt it, especially post fellowship). When I look at people with scholarships, not worrying much about money, I will think, that could have been me. But oh well.
Dear Sida:
I would like to inform you that a Medical Rural Bonded Scholarship(MRBS) place has become available. If you are interested in receivingthis scholarship, please let me know as soon as possible (the next dayor so) so I can send you a contract in the mail.
Actually the email was sent on Thursday, so when I read this on Friday morning, you can imagine my panic. I have less than two short hours before work to decide to accept or decline!
Let me describe the scholarship to those who don't know about it. It is a bid by the government to try and get doctors into rural or remote areas. What happens is this: they give you around $23,000 a year, for the duration of your medical degree (four years, accumilating to nearly 100,000). After you graduate, you train as per usual, and after you have reached your destination (whether you want to be a specialist or a GP), you go and work in a rural area for 6 years. If you are a specialist, the 'rural' area can be a large centre such as cairns or toowoomba. If you are a GP it would have to be somewhere more remote than that.
I spent a whole agonising day thinking about it, the money is so nice it's hard to turn down. $23,000 a year as a student, it almost means I don't need to worry about work, and buy myself a niiice laptop and mp3 player and an expensive stethoscope and all that. But then, to give 6 years away post fellowship (which is almost 10 years down the track) is too much. I do have a view to work in rural areas, but only for short times, and only intermittently, and not BOUND to it.
To breach the contract, you will have to give the money back plus interest, but more importantly, you can't work privately and bill to medicare for 12 years.
I chose not to take it in the end, as I don't really want to be bound when my future is still undecided. I don't want to take it only to break the agreement. One day, though, I may regret my decision, I may end up spending 6 years in a rural place anyways (although I doubt it, especially post fellowship). When I look at people with scholarships, not worrying much about money, I will think, that could have been me. But oh well.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
UQ Med Interview Experience 2006
I said before that I will post about my interview experience, and I've put it off because I couldn't bear to think about it before my offer came. Then when my offer came I was too lazy to think about it. But here I am now. Better late than never, right?
I think, on the whole, my interview was not too different (if at all) from recounts of previous years. You can find other people's recounts in the Paging Dr forum http://vtac.proboards103.com/index.cgi
The usual type of questions (not in order)
I think, on the whole, my interview was not too different (if at all) from recounts of previous years. You can find other people's recounts in the Paging Dr forum http://vtac.proboards103.com/index.cgi
The usual type of questions (not in order)
What do you do with your spare time? (Said to be a community involvment question in disguise) - Current issues facing Qld Health? (Look-upable on the Qld Health website)
- Why do you want to be a doctor?
- Have you had contact with working doctors?
- What do you think are some difficulties doctors face?
- What makes a good doctor?
- Have you come up against any difficulties, situations where you really felt you failed? How did you deal with it?
- How will you support yourself during med?
- Define terms: Pretend you are explaining these terms to lay people (in the scientific terms, I was a teacher explaining to school-aged children. In the social terms, I was a guest on the radio). You get to choose from three terms. I can't remember my terms, but I do recall I chose inertia and flowchart. I even said out loud that I chose those because they seem to be the easiest. (me and my big mouth).
- The debate: choose from 3 controversial topics, state your view on them. then they will state an argument of the opposite view, and you have to say something back, to stand your ground. This goes on for 2 or 3 rounds. Mine was: capital punishment, deforestation, and heroin injection rooms. I chose heroin injection rooms.
- Story and summary: The interviewers read out a short story, and then they asked me a few questions. I was asked to summarise the story and then to answer a few questions, mainly to do with empathy. (eg, how did X feel? Why did the author mention Y?)
What are some of your good qualities and some of your bad qualities?
The interview lasted for 35 minutes, I think it is supposed to last longer? My panel was one lady and one man, the lady was Head of Psychiatry at the SOM (I think) and the man was a GP. Was a bit scared at being interviewed by a psychiatrist.
And now for my personal remarks...
- When asked what I do in my spare time, I said that as I am working full time, I enjoy simple things like spending time with my family. They asked, when I was a student and had more time, what did I do? Obviously this is to see if I had any community involvment. I told the truth: Nothing much. I did get involved with the Amnesty International for a concert, but my contribution was so minute it's hardly worth mentioning. They didn't ask anything further. In spite of that, I got in.
- My response to the current issues in QLD was very standard, as my brain froze at that point. I had other ideas for improving the status quo and stuff which I didn't mention. But I still got in, in spite of that.
- When asked of some of difficulties facing doctors, I should have said something about work load. But instead I said what was on my mind at the moment. I remembered the doctors I work with and said "everyone expects the doctor to know everything. The ancilliary staff, the patients, nurses. I think there is quite a bit of pressure there." What! I still cringe at the thought of what I said.
- People say not to mention religion. But when asked how I deal with my failures, I said I pray. So I guess it's not that bad. They nodded when I said that. But then, I didn't say "I pray to the God who hath mercy in spite of my transgressions, yea, whoes power is made perfect in my weakness." Hehe...
- When asked how I will support myself, I had meant to say that I can live off my parents, and work if necessary. But what I ended up saying was that it is quite easy for me to find weekend positions as a radiographer, and my parents don't mind me staying with them anyways. But they didn't reject me because I said I was going to work.
- I giggled. I can't believe it now, but I'm sure I giggled. I forgot the interviewers were meant to be stony-faced. "Hehe", I remember saying. "I choose inertia, it's the easiest, haha." then: "Hehe, I'll choose flowchart, it is also the easiest there, hehe". The dude looked like he was falling asleep at one stage, but the lady was very nice and both of them did smile back at me. I guess the key is to relax and talk to them as you would anyone you just met - amicably, but with restraint. Giggling is not necessarily the best thing though, especially for guys.
- In the debate, towards the end, I had virtually no new arguments. All I could do was to say, weakly, "Yes, that is a valid point, but I think it is more important that:" and then state one of my previous arguments. I felt horrible, but I guess since I got in it couldn't have been that bad.
- I wanted to make my 'bad' qualities sound 'good'. I said that I find that I needed to speak up with working in a team at work, which I have difficulty doing since I am on the lowest rung of the ladder. I was trying to explain this, when the psychiatrist said "So you have confidence problems?" and I said "uh, something like that, yes". But I don't! I don't have confidence problems, I just have difficulty speaking up when faced with scary surgeons and scarier operating theatre nurses. So the interview panel thinks that I am working on my 'confidence'. But once again, I guess it's not a rejectable offence.
Look how much I'd posted, I hadn't meant to post this much. Looks like I recall more than I thought I would. I have shared some of my responses, but I don't actually think I responded all that well, and I certainly wouldn't recommend it to anyone.
Hope this helps.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Sida's Secret Santa experience
Yes, secret santa at work.
When I picked out a name from the box, it said "Margaret W" and I assumed it was the only Margaret I knew, that is, the funny, bubbly red-headed nurse that I loved to work with. I bought her a little glass angel figurine, a glass lotus, and, as a joke, a little decorative ear-picker.
I wasn't around when the presents were opened, having been called to theatre, so when I came back, I sidled up to her and said "so, did you like your present?" and she showed me - some chocolates and other miscelanious little things. Imagine my consternation - it's not what I bought her! What is going on! Worst thing with secret Santa is that you couldn't say anything, it being secret. So I went around the whole afternoon feeling very troubled. Where did my carefully-bought little figurines go? I couldnt' say anything to anyone, so there I was, discreetly looking in the cupboards and even considering other people's gift bags. Terrible time. Margaret came up to me, and said "you look troubled" to which I replied: "I'm very confused about something." She said "Well, if it is about radiology, I can't help you. I'm a nurse." And walked away.
So anyway it turned out there are two Margarets. One was the nurse, one was the typist who I only see once in a blue moon, I don't even know where the typing-room is. Mine was the typist. Luckily I put 'W' on my card, so my present went to the right person. I felt such a fool, and so glad that Margaret W didn't go without a present, but I was also disappointed because I didn't get to explain the little man on a stick was an ear-picker and not a drink stirrer, and I didn't get to see her reaction. I'm over my disappointment now, as I imagine her opening her bag to see the beautiful little angel and the lotus. Who could it be? Hehe, I like this annonymous gift-giving.
So anyway, I got a hanging-thing from my 'secret santa', who couldn't keep a secret. One of those crystal-things that you hang on your window, with butterflies and stuff. The guy who gave it to me was so funny, his antics were worth more than the gift itself. "Soooo Sida, what did Santa give you? Ooo, Isn't that lovely?" He said. After I'd indicated that it was obvious to me who it was from, he gave me a detailed explanation of the significance of the beads. The red ones signify this-and-this, the purple ones mean that-and-that, the butterflies bring so-and-so. He said all this with a pause in between, and I wondered if he was making it all up. Inside, I was like "but I don't believe in that crap!" But all I said was "right, right, interesting". So anyway, it is now up on my window next to a windchime I got for my birthday. It doesn't catch the light the way he says it would, because (I suspect) it is plastic and not crystal. But it looks good and reminds me of a kind old soul.
When I picked out a name from the box, it said "Margaret W" and I assumed it was the only Margaret I knew, that is, the funny, bubbly red-headed nurse that I loved to work with. I bought her a little glass angel figurine, a glass lotus, and, as a joke, a little decorative ear-picker.
I wasn't around when the presents were opened, having been called to theatre, so when I came back, I sidled up to her and said "so, did you like your present?" and she showed me - some chocolates and other miscelanious little things. Imagine my consternation - it's not what I bought her! What is going on! Worst thing with secret Santa is that you couldn't say anything, it being secret. So I went around the whole afternoon feeling very troubled. Where did my carefully-bought little figurines go? I couldnt' say anything to anyone, so there I was, discreetly looking in the cupboards and even considering other people's gift bags. Terrible time. Margaret came up to me, and said "you look troubled" to which I replied: "I'm very confused about something." She said "Well, if it is about radiology, I can't help you. I'm a nurse." And walked away.
So anyway it turned out there are two Margarets. One was the nurse, one was the typist who I only see once in a blue moon, I don't even know where the typing-room is. Mine was the typist. Luckily I put 'W' on my card, so my present went to the right person. I felt such a fool, and so glad that Margaret W didn't go without a present, but I was also disappointed because I didn't get to explain the little man on a stick was an ear-picker and not a drink stirrer, and I didn't get to see her reaction. I'm over my disappointment now, as I imagine her opening her bag to see the beautiful little angel and the lotus. Who could it be? Hehe, I like this annonymous gift-giving.
So anyway, I got a hanging-thing from my 'secret santa', who couldn't keep a secret. One of those crystal-things that you hang on your window, with butterflies and stuff. The guy who gave it to me was so funny, his antics were worth more than the gift itself. "Soooo Sida, what did Santa give you? Ooo, Isn't that lovely?" He said. After I'd indicated that it was obvious to me who it was from, he gave me a detailed explanation of the significance of the beads. The red ones signify this-and-this, the purple ones mean that-and-that, the butterflies bring so-and-so. He said all this with a pause in between, and I wondered if he was making it all up. Inside, I was like "but I don't believe in that crap!" But all I said was "right, right, interesting". So anyway, it is now up on my window next to a windchime I got for my birthday. It doesn't catch the light the way he says it would, because (I suspect) it is plastic and not crystal. But it looks good and reminds me of a kind old soul.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
ohhhhh... i feel twice my age
I said last time that I was going to be super busy, and that I was going to love it.
I take it all back! I hate it! I am just so tired, and it's been giving me reflux, and I feel literally twice my age, or even trice. How many twenty-year-olds do you know get reflux?
I'm not even going to describe my week. All I can say is that I had the worst week of my life (or at least the worst week in my memory). It also involved about 1.5 hours of overtime, the pay for which I recieve is JUST worth the additional exhaustion.
I was recounting my week to Ernie, a boy from church yesterday. I was really just complaining to him about it all, then he suddenly he said: "Pray". It was then that I realised I hadn't prayed properly for days. I prayed short prayers but didn't spend quiet time with God, and hadn't actually prayed properly. Then I looked at Ernie; he has such a simple outlook on life, and yet in that simplicity, such wisdom, from a high-schooler. God makes me learn lessons from those younger than me, teaching me to be humble.
And that is the reason, my dear ones, why I do not have a new 'verse of the week' this week.
I take it all back! I hate it! I am just so tired, and it's been giving me reflux, and I feel literally twice my age, or even trice. How many twenty-year-olds do you know get reflux?
I'm not even going to describe my week. All I can say is that I had the worst week of my life (or at least the worst week in my memory). It also involved about 1.5 hours of overtime, the pay for which I recieve is JUST worth the additional exhaustion.
I was recounting my week to Ernie, a boy from church yesterday. I was really just complaining to him about it all, then he suddenly he said: "Pray". It was then that I realised I hadn't prayed properly for days. I prayed short prayers but didn't spend quiet time with God, and hadn't actually prayed properly. Then I looked at Ernie; he has such a simple outlook on life, and yet in that simplicity, such wisdom, from a high-schooler. God makes me learn lessons from those younger than me, teaching me to be humble.
And that is the reason, my dear ones, why I do not have a new 'verse of the week' this week.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Busy busy.
Just some more updates. Still dreading work. I have learnt to be stoic, to tell myself the pain in my calfs are helping me loose weight.
I'm so busy now, and I don't know how it happened. Is it just that it's the end of the year? Or was my involvement in the church increasing steadily and I would have reached this point even if it were May or July? Hmm.
Nah, it's just that it's the end of the year.
For example, Wednesday night: 21st birthday party. Saturday 8-2pm: Work, then get changed into civilian clothes for youth group. Saturday 3-5pm: youth group at church, then get changed into night clothes. Saturday 6.30pm til late: work Christmas party. Sunday: Take friend to church, spend some time with her after church, perhaps watch a movie, and chat. (And I should be going to a youth group xmas performance practice too... but that can have a higher priority some other time.) Next weekend: more youth group, spend some time with a friend from Syd (perhaps), take another friend to Christian shop, church, after-church practice...
See? How did it happen? I'm planning weekends WEEKS before they happen.
Not that I'm complaining. I'm enjoying most of it, it should be fun. (Except maybe the working on Saturday). But my mum was right. I really am going to cut back on something next year when I study.
My dad lent our digital camera to a friend of his. When we get it back I will post a photo and an accompanying treatise on mortality.
I'm so busy now, and I don't know how it happened. Is it just that it's the end of the year? Or was my involvement in the church increasing steadily and I would have reached this point even if it were May or July? Hmm.
Nah, it's just that it's the end of the year.
For example, Wednesday night: 21st birthday party. Saturday 8-2pm: Work, then get changed into civilian clothes for youth group. Saturday 3-5pm: youth group at church, then get changed into night clothes. Saturday 6.30pm til late: work Christmas party. Sunday: Take friend to church, spend some time with her after church, perhaps watch a movie, and chat. (And I should be going to a youth group xmas performance practice too... but that can have a higher priority some other time.) Next weekend: more youth group, spend some time with a friend from Syd (perhaps), take another friend to Christian shop, church, after-church practice...
See? How did it happen? I'm planning weekends WEEKS before they happen.
Not that I'm complaining. I'm enjoying most of it, it should be fun. (Except maybe the working on Saturday). But my mum was right. I really am going to cut back on something next year when I study.
My dad lent our digital camera to a friend of his. When we get it back I will post a photo and an accompanying treatise on mortality.
Friday, December 01, 2006
whats going on in Sida-land
In short: nothing much. Work has been dragging, each week passes like two weeks (or more). Perhaps I am too proactive in my work, because sometimes I am sure that I am the one doing all the physically demanding work, while others are elsewhere, perhaps all huddled together to do one CT scan. I don't say anything, because then it seems like I can't handle the work, which I can. I just get innately annoyed. I guess this thing happens to PDY's / interns everywhere. It's what you get for being on the bottom rung.
My parents think that I am spending too much time on church-activities. They said this after last weekend, when I was out for the whole weekend nearly. Saturday morning, shopping (groceries for family); Saturday afternoon, youth fellowship. Saturday night: dinner and karaoke with friends. Sunday morning, church; Sunday afternoon, practicing our Christmas concert dance thingy. I do admit that I have had a busy weekend, but I didn't think my dad's comment that I wasted my time on "pointless things" was called for. For one thing, it's my weekend. For another, I had been working hard all week, I think the weekend is a good time to do 'pointless' things. Last but not least, I can not think of anything more meaningful than worshipping and serving God. But I didn't argue with my dad. I just left the room.
My desire to do oncology as a specialisation has been met with raised eyebrows. People say: "Why would you want to work in a field where you tell people that they die in X months time?" And to tell the truth, I don't know why. I just feel like it is something that I can dive into. Besides, not all cancer patients die.
Um. I think that is about it. In my spare time I am currently reading up on evidence for creation theory, and also doing a study plan (sort of thing) of the new testiment. The old testiment is too long and too unchewable; it can wait for next year.
My parents think that I am spending too much time on church-activities. They said this after last weekend, when I was out for the whole weekend nearly. Saturday morning, shopping (groceries for family); Saturday afternoon, youth fellowship. Saturday night: dinner and karaoke with friends. Sunday morning, church; Sunday afternoon, practicing our Christmas concert dance thingy. I do admit that I have had a busy weekend, but I didn't think my dad's comment that I wasted my time on "pointless things" was called for. For one thing, it's my weekend. For another, I had been working hard all week, I think the weekend is a good time to do 'pointless' things. Last but not least, I can not think of anything more meaningful than worshipping and serving God. But I didn't argue with my dad. I just left the room.
My desire to do oncology as a specialisation has been met with raised eyebrows. People say: "Why would you want to work in a field where you tell people that they die in X months time?" And to tell the truth, I don't know why. I just feel like it is something that I can dive into. Besides, not all cancer patients die.
Um. I think that is about it. In my spare time I am currently reading up on evidence for creation theory, and also doing a study plan (sort of thing) of the new testiment. The old testiment is too long and too unchewable; it can wait for next year.
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