Since I was young, I could never wake up early for anything. Today, I couldn't sleep. The light streaming through the side of the shade of my room woke me up at 6:30 AM. I tried to roll over, to cover myself with my sheet, but the insistent caribbean sun would not be denied. Drearily, I climbed out of bed and trudged to the kitchen to fill a bowl with corn flakes and milk (one of my best purchases so far.) On the way back to my bedroom, I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked tired. I felt tired.
I gulped down my breakfast and headed out the door at 7:25, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. My roommates (upper termers) had told me that no one wore scrubs around campus. Upon looking around I saw that they were wrong. I couldn't run back to my room and change but that was okay; I had my surgical greens in my bag. I couldn't run back because it wasn't just any other day. It was my first day of medical school.
From when I was a child, people assumed that I would follow my parents footsteps toward medicine. It was without thinking that I set myself on that path. It took a life-changing event for me to realize that medicine was my own choice. I knew the curriculum, knew the steps I would need to trace to make it from the first year to the fourth. I knew that road was starting today.
I almost ran to the top floor of the science building for anatomy imaging lab. I ducked into a bathroom and changed into my scrubs. I was nervous.
This was my first day, and how it went might change my life's path forever. After a brief orientation, our lab groups split up into various stations. At each station was an ultrasound machine, a MD tutor, and an actor portraying a patient. Our teacher demonstrated the use of the machine on the patient. He asked for a volunteer to try the machine. My hand flew up.
As I walked to the machine, I realized that all of the agonizing over this past summer was for nothing. I introduced myself, shook the patient's hand, and got his name. I started to explain the procedure, and was interrupted with my first lesson of the day.
"Always ask the patients permission." the tutor said, In my hurry to show the group my skills I had forgotten this important step. Unflustered, I rephrased my words; "Is it okay if I examine your arm with this ultrasound machine?"
I picked up the wrong probe. It wasn't even connected to the machine. Even so, I went back to my seat elated. I had started the process of learning medicine. Not just memorizing Anatomy and Biochemistry, I was learning how to be a doctor. On my first day!
Wet lab was next. I was at first a little apprehensive about the cadavers. As soon as the exercise began that melted away. I was here to learn. We rotated through the various stations. When we reached a tray containing what looked like a large deflated black kickball, I started to prod what was obviously a pair of human lungs with the probe.
The lab instructor picked up the lungs and demonstrated some large cancerous lesions on the underside. Here, she said, after she had finished, and deposited the organ in my gloved hand.
The rest of the day seemed to fly by, group discussion, lunch with friends, and our daily four hour dose of lectures. Afterwards, I went about making a snack, and headed to the meeting of the Humanitarian Students Organization. I signed up to help paint a nursing home.
Yesterday, our White coat ceremony had an unexpected distinguished visitor. Five minutes before the event was supposed to start, one of the organizers got on stage to inform us the event would be delayed ten minutes. The Prime Minister of Grenada was on his way from a cabinet meeting. When the ceremony started he spoke to us about the history of SGU in Grenada, and our place as students. What struck me most of all was how lucky I was to be studying in such a welcoming country. I may not owe SGU more than the balance of my loans, but I feel like I owe Grenada a little community service to balance out their hospitality.
The highlight speech of the night, however came from the Dean of Medicine, an aging New Jerseyan, Dr. Jacobs. He told us stories about his own residency, when he knew he was a doctor, about honesty with patients, and the joy of saving a life. He framed our journey in a way I hadn't considered.
The doctor exists to heal bodies and minds, to support himself and his family, and to contribute to medical knowledge. Dr. Jacobs made it all real however with his closing. We were to be more than scientists and physicians. "Go," he said, "and do good."
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