Still can't quite believe I've made it to this point. Here I am, writing in a brand spanking new blog, which will no longer be filled with moans about how much I hate the lab, how much I hate the UKCAT and how I really wish interviewers wouldn't look as if they're about to die from boredom when they're grilling me (you bastards). That chapter in my life is officially over, and I am getting ready to embark upon the journey through medical school: the next stage in my life, which, (finals permitting), will allow me to qualify as a doctor in less than four years time. To put this into perspective there's less than 48 months to go before "Black Wednesday", the first Wednesday in August when I'll join the bewildered ranks of newly qualified FY1 doctors in what has been affectionately dubbed "the killing season". So, in the summer of 2016, coming to a hospital near you...this med school fresher will (assuming all exams are satisfactorily passed) actually emerge as a competent medical professional.
Now for the tricky bit which comes between now and 2016: getting through the next four years in one piece and doing well enough to be awarded the joint degree of Bachelor of Medicine and Bachelor of Surgery by my medical school, who judged me promising enough to grant me a place on their ultra-competitive graduate entry programme. With more than ten times as many people applying as there are places, the odds were very long indeed and many competent candidates fell by the wayside...and someone, somewhere in the med school hierarchy made the decision that I was cut out for this course. So I'm determined to prove them right and this blog will chart my attempts at doing so.
I must admit, I am not the innocent blog virgin you might think I am. I maintained a blog throughout my undergrad and postgrad days studying in London and it was a source of great comfort to me. It was a neutral space where I could write, reflect and bitch about how much I disliked biomed drudgery and how I wished I was in medical school. Well, my wish was granted so here I am, six days away from starting classes and I'm positively buzzing with excitement (and also with a tinge of nervousness, it must be said).
Right now I feel like I'm right at the top of a diving board, poised and ready to jump. I have no idea what this jump will be like, how cold the water below is and whether or not I'll pull it off successfully. But something within me has driven me to this point after so many years. So next week I'm going to make the jump and in four years time I'll resurface with a reasonable idea of whether I pulled it off to gold medal standard or not. I don't know what the next four years will bring in terms of grades, friendships and new experiences, but I know one thing: that for the first time in my life I'm starting a course I want to do as an end in itself, not as a means to getting to some other course. And that feels very good indeed. Amazing actually. So when I do dive next week, I'm going to really enjoy the descent!