Back by Popular Demand

Hello.

I am back again by popular demand.

By popular I really just mean the 15 wonderful people who still read this drivel even though their brain cells shrivel at every word that spews from my mouth.

Uh, thank you for your support? Monetary funds would be greatly appreciated.

Slight side track - Snowing? In October? Wtf?

Anyways.

Because I've just spent 3 hours of my life talking to the loveliest grannies about their cataracts (not their cats, sadly), I feel the need to go indulge in a bit of mindless sword wielding and annoying side quests in the form of Final Fantasy 7.

Catch you on the flip side!

Whatever the hell that's supposed to mean.

The poorengineer returns, with a cup of tea!

While the poormedic sorts itself out regarding whether it wants to resume blogging, I have uncovered the following gem!

BS6008: Method For Preparation Of A Liquor OF Tea

For the uninitiated, BS stands for British Standards Institute, who along with DIN, JISC, ISO et al govern the lives of engineers (among many others) with their standards publications to make sure that a screw thread rolled in China will will fit into a nut manufactured in the United States.

Someone must have had ample time on their backsides to bother penning 5000 words over 6 pages to ensure professional tea testers had an unfailing reference in their esteemed professions.

Such dedication. Superbly impressive. I'm sure this was what the chaps at the Ig Noble Awards selection panel thought too, because BS6008 beat a few other wordy entries to claim Ig Noble's literary award for long windedness.

I shall leave you readers with an abridged version to make the perfect cuppa.

1. Use 2g of tea (+/-2%) for every 100ml of water
2. Tea flavour and appearance will be affected by hardness of water used
3. Fill the pot to within 4-6mm of the brim with freshly boiled water
4. After the lid has been placed on top, leave the pot to brew for precisely six minutes
5. Add milk at a ratio of 1.75ml to every 100ml of tea
6. Lift the pot with the lid in place, then "pour tea through the infused leaves into the cup"
7. Pour in tea on top of the milk to prevent scalding of the milk. If you pour your milk in last, the best results are with a liquor temperature between 65 - 80 degrees Celcius

This is, of course assuming that you are using a pot made of "white porcelain or glazed earthenware, with its edge partly serrated and provided with a lid, the skirt of which fits loosely inside".

Enjoy.

Goodbye

I think I need to get a job.

This whole blogging thing was fun while it lasted (the whole two months, talk about short attention span), but it's not going to put food on the table.

So goodbye and may your kidneys outlive you!

Translator, at your service

Ah, the many roles of a medical student.

Today's didn't involve gallantly defending testicles from cosmic rays - far from it.

I was summoned to clinic by one of the consultants who needed help translating for a patient who he hoped spoke the same language as I did. Lucky for him, I did and communication was established.

All I had to do was ask if he had shoulder pain, which he evidently did, however that simple question launched him into a very excitable rant in a mix of English and his mother tongue about knee pain and back pain and other various miscellaneous information - everything but shoulder pain.

He then requested that he be taken to the toilet to have a wee, so I pushed his wheelchair to the toilet and recruited a nurse to help out, who then decided that since I spoke the language I could handle it without her help, and left me alone. I can't imagine language to be a barrier to helping someone go to the loo, but what do I know, I'm just a medical student.

So there I was. In the toilet. With this man who whipped out his equipment without so much as a bat of an eyelid.

We then spent a good 15 minutes in there - him on the toilet seat, having a good old rant about his son and his grandson and what they do for a living, his experience in the navy, his wife's job, how everyone complains that he talks too much so he tries not to - like it is the most natural thing in the world to have someone you've just met in the toilet with you while you peed and told them your life story.

Business done, I wheeled him back to the consultation room where the doctor continued his examination, and decided to give him joint injections for the pain.

I held his hand while the consultant stuck needles in his knees and shoulder, explaining to him what's going on. Once it was all over I dressed him and tied his shoe laces and wheeled him to the reception where we organised transport for him to get home.

He was a very nice man, highly animated, and he kept shouting bilingual thank you very much i am eternally grateful for your help everybody in this hospital is amazing, even as he left.

Yet another satisfied customer.

I think NHS should put me on permanent payroll for the amount of times I had to extend my services as translator. And then for doing the nurses' job. And occasionally the house officer jobs. It's a good 3 - in - 1 deal.

Medical student, jack of all trades, for hire?

Get a life, seriously

I think I am very privileged to be in medical school in the UK. A lot of people who are desperate to get admitted are rejected every year.

Sometimes, I wonder what the people that apply to medschool and get rejected are like. Especially after hearing what my admissions tutor had to say.

Til this day he is still getting death threats from someone he rejected eight years ago.

Which probably explains the notice on the wall.

But seriously. Eight years? Ordinary people would've moved on by now, gotten a job, got married, settled down and live a comfortable life. Maybe the occasional "my life would be so much more complete if I did medicine" mope. And then when their kids grow up threaten that they should go into medicine or they will be disowned.

Kudos for the determination, but the freaky stalker I will kill you and you will regret not accepting me into your institute needs just a bit of working on.

Probably a good thing he didn't get into medicine.

Pearls of Wisdom

Our lecturer today, who had more abbreviated letters after his name than the entire alphabet put together, imparted to us something of great value and truth.

The key to success in your MRCP, FRCS, or whatever fancy exams you take to advance your medical career - he said - lies in putting your examiner to sleep.

Right.

Apparently that's how he got through medical school and all those other degrees he has under his belt.

"When asked a question, rattle on with the textbook answer, as all the previous examinees would've said it, and the examiner would be so bored of listening to it again that he'd fall asleep. Speak eloquently and fluently on the subject, so as to not awake him from his peaceful slumber. If he's not awake he doesn't know what has happened and therefore has to pass you."

It makes sense when you think about it, all but for two major flaws. Firstly this is only applicable for viva type examinations where you verbally answer questions in front of a panel of examiners, normally one who asks the questions, and the other one (whom you want to be drifting off to dreamland) writes comments about how you handle the question.

The other gaping problem with this whole putting your examiner to sleep business lies in the fact that you really have to know your shit well enough in the first place to just drone on and on about it for 20 minutes.

But I suppose it can't hurt to try.

Fresh Meat

It's always nice to see wide-eyed, eager, fresh-faced freshers stepping into tertiary education in medicine. They turn up to lectures on time, do all the late night studying of anatomy that is required of them, ask questions in class - basically they are just very, very keen.

Also, it's nice to then break their spirit and drag them down to your level. The level where everyday you wake up and wonder, why the hell did I choose to do medicine dammit as yet another nice old lady vomits on your shoes. Misery needs company.

Sometimes I'd like to tell them to run while they still can. I'd listen to their complaints about the timetable and teaching and tell them the sad truth. 9 o'clock lectures getting you down? Wait till you go to critical care where the outreach team starts their day at 7.30am.

I tell them to quit their whining, they are having it easy because their syllabus has changed and they don't have to do the extra modules and essays that we had to do, during my time.

Nothing says seniority more than those three words. During my time.

Makes me feel old, all these 1990 babies. They are from a completely different era!

Anyways.

Dibs on at least one of these eager freshers switching to Philosophy by next Wednesday. Any other bets?

The Menstrual Cycle

Click to enlarge

I was never meant to mouse draw.

Original, unedited version of the menstrual cycle obtained here.

The Many Roles of A Medical Student

I think being a medical student can be a very versatile job. You never know what the nurse, junior doctor, registrar or consultant is going to tell you to do next.

During my medical student career I've been a whole lot of things - wallpaper, retractor holder, phlebotomist for an entire ward, kidney dish holder, personal assistant, chart finder, clerking machine, coffee and toast maker, x-ray form filler - you name it.

Today however, I was given a role I never thought could possibly exist.

I was the protector of testicles.

It was an orthopaedic list, the x-ray machine was used, and the anaesthetist who wasn't wearing a lead coat quickly ducked behind me, saying "Ok don't move I need you to protect my testicles."

The surgeon who had taken his lead coat off and left it somewhere while his registrar went on with the hammering soon followed suit, ducking behind the anaesthetist who was ducking behind me - and I can only imagine this to be a very comical sight of two full grown men hiding behind a medical student half their size.

I guess this could be considered a rather noble role of ensuring that there will be a next generation to look forward to. Their future children damn well better be thanking me.

Job Satisfaction

A very pleasant 80-ish year old gentleman hobbled into clinic, obviously in a lot of pain. His 2 week old knee replacement gave way and he had fallen on it.

The joint was very swollen and any movement would cause him great agony. He could barely walk or bend his knee, and he lived on his own. Simply put, he was in pretty bad shape.

Plans were being made to admit him for inpatient physiotherapy and some much needed care, but like all NHS hospitals across the country, beds were scarce. So while waiting for the bed managers to sort something out, the consultant decided he'll try this man on a patella stabilising knee brace with hinges to allow flexion.

The orthotics department obliged with a knee brace and it was fitted on the old chap, who lo and behold, immediately was able to stand up, walk, and bend his knee - things he couldn't do a few seconds ago.

It's amazing how such a simple device, such a simple intervention, can make such a huge difference. From having to be admitted to hospital, he was now able to go about his daily life and attend physiotherapy as an outpatient instead. Suffice to say, the man was ecstatic.

It's like one of those rise-and-walk moments, without the choir of angels singing.

I guess sometimes simple is better.

Instant job satisfaction.