Phases of Junior doctoring - Part 1

‘How’s bond going?’ asked a senior of mine.

‘Pretty good, I’m busy, learning and doing lots of things!’ I replied, as I launched into an exhaustive list of all the things I was getting confident in doing day by day.

‘That’s great!’ he answered. ‘But what happens when you know everything? Will you still feel as eager when you’ve learnt what there is to learn, or when this time next year all your classmates are preparing hard for NEET and you’re still doing the same things? The newness of it might wear off… How has this experience changed you?’

I was stumped. What will I do when the newness wears off? I was already beginning to feel it, and this conversation made me think about the past 6 months. Was I any different from when I started? Was I supposed to be? As any good product of the system would answer this question, I have set out to categorize the various phases of Junior Doctoring I’ve gone through. Sometimes Dr Jekyll and at other times, Mr Hyde!

Phase 1 - The Enthusiastic Learner.

We all start this way, young, idealistic, fresh from college, raring to go, and new to everything. The enthusiastic learner is awed by everything from a baby sucking it’s thumb on ultrasound, to the neat squaring of a suture knot, to the remarkable slipperiness of amniotic fluid covered gloves when delivering a baby (what if I drop it?!) This learner is not scared of asking questions or making mistakes and says yes to everything. She even claims to enjoy the mess food, seldom complains, always agrees to play with the campus kids, calls the consultant for everything from a common cold to ‘Ma’am, do you have a broom?’, desaturates when the patient is gasping, hyperventilates in the presence of tachycardia and sleeps with one eye open during on calls for fear of sleeping through them, but sleeps through them anyway.

Dear Enthusiastic learner, please don’t lose your sense of wonder.

Phase 2 - The Dizzy Learner.

It has been one month and the learner you met earlier is in the thick of things slowly but surely taking on more responsibility. Skin one day, Rectus the next, Uterus, Baby out. She has gotten a sense of the routine, and figured out alternate paths to avoid the onslaught of the kids after a long day at work. She is busy and has no time to do her laundry, call her mum or look at the pretty blue skies, smell the flowers or admire the red litchis – it’s okay! I’m learning. But one day while in the operation theatre, she feels dizzy and has to step out and sit down. ‘Darn this sign of weakness!’ she scolds herself. It happens again, and again, till she starts dreading the embarrassment of stepping out each time and prays as she scrubs – no fainting this time. It still happens. Advise pours in – ‘don’t be scared of blood!’, ‘it’s postural hypotension’, ‘get more sleep’, ‘arey, just wiggle your toes!’ Many deep breaths, toe wiggling sessions, prayers and dizzy OT exits later, it stops, just as suddenly as it started.

Dear Dizzy Learner, when you feel like giving up, reconsider. And, always, ALWAYS stop to admire the sky.

Phase 3 - The Late-comer.

The learner is getting tired and is faced with the same tasks over and over again. The learner has also figured out ways of accumulating ‘loose change’ sleep and her friend procrastination has come to visit. Together, they are persistently late. They are running against time, stumbling into rounds, moving around bleary eyed and staying up when they should be asleep. For example right now, she should be asleep.
Dear Late-comer, please don’t tell me you’re here to stay!

And in keeping with my promise to be up on time tomorrow morning (It’s Monday after all!) I will introduce you to ‘The Unmarried-Loner’, ‘The OPD Monster’, ‘The Weight Gainer’ and ‘The Jack of all Trades’ tomorrow.

Signing off,

The Junior Doctor.