Strap on whenever it seems appropriate

Many things have happened since we last talked. Yes...it's been quite a while, hasn't it? Let me tell you: grand things have transpired in the moments we have been apart. Like the fact that I am running a half marathon July 27th, right here in the streets of M. And the fact that I am actually going to a Coldplay concert in Connecticut this summer. But the real nitty gritty of the issue for today, ladies and gentlemen, is this: I went nuts last semester. That's right - I went stark raving mad. I was a raving lunatic for all of 16 weeks and I did not realize it fully until the semester was over and sanity spoke reason into my rabid mind. And by sanity I mean the voice of reason. This being, of course, my mother.
Probably, the seeds of my madness were sown towards the end of the first semester when I decided that my entire existence would cease to be if I Did Not Get Honors. Many a night was spent plotting and scheming to avoid this end. "So, I got an 88 on this last test....if I get at least a 95 on the next test and maybe a 92 on the last test, provided, of course I get 100% on the final, then maybe I could get honors. Cross fingers, knock on wood, throw salt over left shoulder, consider putting soul on lease." It was bad I tells ya. Bad. It so happened, that I did get honors that first semester. My ego was officially inflated. Life was good. The seeds, however, were starting to germinate.
Next semester came on by with its Anatomy and its Physiology and its Histology. Perhaps people in my class decided they really needed to get focused. Perhaps I became a little bit dumber. Perhaps it was a combination of the two. The fact of the matter is, I was getting *gasp* median scores. Me! How was this happening?? In desperation, I studied harder. I began to eye my classmates with suspicion. Who was this 34501 who kept getting 97% on every test, while I, surely, an honors student, was struggling by with 87's?? Was this fair? I deserved better! Did God hate me?
But the demon of the gunner is an insiduous and nefarious predator. Slowly I had breathed life to it as it crept into my nostrils. Quietly it had infiltrated the dark depths of my growing dementia. Before long, I was possessed. I was possessed with the demon of the gunner and I had gone mad. I studied because I wanted to get honors, I wanted to get 100% on that test, and damnit, if it was not going to be tested, why learn it? I forgot what it was to enjoy being in class, soaking up the sweet medical knowlege as it was taught to me. I lost sight of why I was in medical school, of whom I had begun this whole process of education for - the patient. (I had forgotten the face of my father.) In short, I was turning into the type of physician you would never want to treat your Aunt Mildred.
The semester ended and I did not bother to check my grades when they were posted. I knew there would be no honors beside my OCED number. However: I did not cease to be. I was alive and breathing and although I began to think murder in my mind when my Mom asked me for the eightieth time, "What's happened to you? You used to love going to class!" I was still in Medical School and I still had a second chance.
To further my learning experience, I discovered, after talking to the Course director for last semester, that, although my test average was mediocre (average of 88%), my PBL instructor must have loved me because I got a 95% on that baby. Turns out, I could have gotten honors if I hadn't been so doolally. 1.6 more points would have been just enough. But I would still be mad.
This is not supposed to be about grades. In fact, this is the last time I will ever refer to my grades in a post again. It's about how I became a gunner and then learned to live again. Or, how I learned what Medical School is really all about. Or maybe even, 10 things not to do in your first year of Medical School.
Today, now, I will study because I enjoy it and because I want to learn. If I need to spend an hour of my time looking up something I don't quite understand but probably won't be tested on come test, then so be it. I go to Medicine, Patients and Society because it is an important part of my growth as a physician and not because attendance is taken. I participate in small group discussion because I care, not just to get 'noticed by the facilitator'. Because sometimes you need to strap on whenever it seems appropriate.