GUEST COLUMN
by Ted Bushey
I know itís been awhile since weíve spoken, or even seen each other. To most of you, Iím nothing but a name, a face you never had the chance to meet. In some circles, I hear Iím a legend. Thanks Justin, thanks Chris for keeping my memory alive.
I know I made some mistakes in the past. Thereís not a day goes by that I donít feel a tinge of guilt for those objectives I turned in late. But Iíve been thinking about the Class of 2004, as I often do, and it occurs to me that youíre approaching a major transition. In just about three months, youíll be taking your last ever PBL exams. Weeks later, youíll be sitting for the USMLE Step Ones. A week after that, third year rotations begin. And then, before you know it, medical school will be a distant memory.
Trust me, it happens sooner than you think.
Sometimes it seems like just yesterday I was scampering down the M1 corridor to make it on time for PBL. My attitude then was probably not a lot different from yours today. I was living from class to class, marking my life in eight-week blocks, thinking only about my next ACE appointment or tomorrowís Histo lab. I felt I had all the time in the worldÖ that I was on a never-ending path to this rumored thing called ìlife after med school.î
But Iíll tell you one thing. That path does have an end. And if youíre anything like me, youíll meet it sooner than you think. When you do, I want you to be prepared. I wasnít. But nothing makes a teacher like experience, so hereís a few lessons from the professor.
Most of us, with a few exceptions, came into medical school bearing the badge of ignorance. We thought we knew nothing and, after one downcast look from behind the spectacles of Dr. Blake, became entirely convinced of the fact.
What surprised me though, is that I really believed Iíd leave medical school a changed man, master of medical sciences when, in reality, almost one and a half years out, I feel like I hardly know more than the day I walked in, 20 minutes late, to the White Coat Ceremony. You just have to accept that learning, in this field, is a lifetime pursuit.
OK, so you graduated high school, made it through college with honors,
passed the MCAT and lived to tell the tale of anatomy lab. Be proud.
But donít flatter yourself, because no one else gives a shit.
I know itís hard to believe and maybe a little unfair but, when push comes to shove, nobody cares that you went to medical school. When you go to apply for a job, they donít need a diagnostician. They need servers, dishwashers and prep cooks, and 10,000 of your tutor evaluations with 10,000 UMHSC Deanís stamps still wonít equal the weight nor worth of a single warm body willing to lay down the elbow grease.
OK, I know youíre busy. You have to finish your objective, read that
article referenced in lecture today, make posters for the next SIGHT, PSR or AMSA meeting. Believe me, I know what itís like.
But please, donít stop reading just yet because this last point is probably the single most important piece of advice I could offer.
You see, when I came to medical school, I had a pretty rough go of it my first two blocks. Sure, I made it through in the end, just as all of you willÖ one day. But my path could have been made a lot smoother with the guidance of an elderóa mentor, if you will.
Now 14 months out of med school, I find myself in a position to be the mentor I never had. To advise those beneath me, to guide them on a smooth transition from school to life after. Class of 2004, Iíve been in your shoes. One day youíll be in mine. Let me show you the shortcut from there to here.
So take these words as my gift. And someday, you may speak them yourselves, to a younger generation. Until then, I wish you luck. And maybe Iíll see you again in another lifeóthe one after med school.