At least it's over.

The exam was a joke. I didn't know for definite more than about 10%, not a good sign. Nothing we revised in a marathon 12hr session the day before was on the paper. I can't really blame the medical school for that (though many of my friends are trying, arguing it was too clinical for this stage in our studies). I can however blame them for the 6 typos in a 100 question paper.

It's becoming a bit of a theme that 20 minutes into the exam there'll be an announcement along the lines of; 'Could all the medical students please turn to question 34 and cross out options K and L as your answer sheet only has room for A-J', or 'The blood pressure reading of 160/170 is wrong so ignore that part of the answer'. My particular favourite was semester 2 when one of the questions asked 'What is structure X on the diagram above' when there was no X. Ooh, and the question which had 5 possible answers, option A being 'all of the above'. Idiots. You'd think they could pay someone to proofread the exam. It's stressful enough without trying to work out if 'progestergen' is a typo or a hormone you've not learnt anything about.

So I went out and drowned my sorrows last night. Luckily for me everyone else seemed to be doing the same, and as we're marked relative to everyone else's mark rather than a set 40% pass that's usually a good sign. Surely someone's done worse than me?

I should have done Maths...

Perhaps two years into my medical degree isn't the best time to realise this. But I was good at Maths. I liked it. I got a sense of achievement from finishing a problem, and I was always pretty sure when I'd got it right. None of this silly multiple-choice nonsense, where all the answers are partly right but one is more right than the others. No stupid intracellular processes that activate millions of other equally complicated and equally dull processes. Best of all, no stupid kidneys. I hate kidneys.

Yes, ok, I never really got the point of integration. Or imaginary numbers. But I got the logic behind getting the answer, and I could get the answer. I didn't have to revise with 4 people that know more than me, because here's the thing- I understood it all.

Maybe if I'd done Maths I'd be happy now, not sat here on a bank holiday wondering whether I really need to know the functions of the liver at all. Ok, I accept, might be of some use in my future career. However learning some PHI models of addiction, health motivation and self-regulation will probably get me more marks. As we're into last-minute cramming, I think it's one or the other. I hope none of my future patients are jaundiced.

Maintenence during exams

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You're kidding, right?! *starts to hyperventilate* A few hours?! What am I supposed to do to procrastinate now? How dare they do site maintenance during exams. As everyone but my landlord seems to know, maintenance should be after exams so as not to disturb our already-fragile selves. Landlord seems to think that booking a 'builder' (landlorddictionary.com definition- noun: man who may or may not have once picked up a hammer, is willing to be paid pittance, doesn't speak English and is happy to do gardening/plumbing/rat killing as and when necessary) to come and pave the back garden during our revision time will not bother us a bit. He seemed to think he didn't even have to really mention it to us. Apparently it's fine for him to take potential 'builders' into our back garden without letting us know he's coming or knocking on the front door when he arrives. More than once now has my poor housemate glanced out her bedroom window to see strange men staring up at her from the 'shed' (noun: few planks of wood with badly-fitted old carpet on top, size of small house, landlord's pride and joy). 'I didn't need to tell you, we didn't need to come in the house.' No, actually, you did. We rent the garden from you too, idiot.

As you can probably tell, I'm in an awesome mood. Had an assessment thing earlier where we got asked questions on our group project and unfortunately one of our examiners had found fault with our research and instead of firing questions at us decided to give us a lecture on how wrong it was. With him being right (wish I'd realised before) there was not much we could do to redeem ourselves. Hopefully won't have failed on one tiny little section, but I can say goodbye to my honours point this year.

So it's back to revision for the semester test. Luckily this involves going round to a friend's and eating brownies so my day might get a little bit better.

CRAFT Syndrome

I did a little revision today. Started with the layers of the digestive tract, which could almost be described as histology but I'll not call it that as it puts me off. I have a thing against microscopes, having only ever seen my own eyelashes upon trying to look through them. They get in the way somewhat. So yes, revised exciting stuff about circular and longitudinal layers of muscle and all that, in the hope it might spur me to look at some things happening inside cells. See, the whole time I've been at medical school I've managed to avoid learning much about anything that's smaller than a cell. Enzymes, G-protein linked receptors (they seem to come up a lot) and the likes have always been put to one side. I think it comes from my hatred of A-Level Chemistry (and my Chemistry teacher for that matter), any time anything sounds vaguely like it's going to require me learning a molecular structure or at least knowing something about chemical bonds I tune out completely. Unfortunately for me there seem to be a lot of these sorts of things this semester, what with the kidneys doing such wonderful things with ion transporters and the liver having a lot to do with glucose. Sigh. I'll learn it all later, I've still got 9 days til my exam.

So instead of revising, I then went to Starbucks. It was a nice walk and I got to show off my new hair. My housemate coloured it for me yesterday. There was a small accident involving a large gloop of hair dye on my forehead which made me look like I'd been using cheap fake tan, but thankfully that had disappeared by this morning. I'm left with very shiny hair and no awful roots.

We also tried to create our own passport photos using a digital camera and a white wall in our living room. I have a job interview tomorrow and I need to take photos with me, presumably for ID badges, so I'm sure they don't need to be exactly to passport spec. I loathe photo booths. Being unfortunate enough to have very pale skin I always come out as a floating pair of eyebrows and dark hair. The only time I've managed to get some nice ones I'd made the schoolgirl error of wearing a strapless top, and so for all anyone could tell I was absolutely starkers. Since sixth form I've used my school photos for any form of ID, but I think I'm just going to have to accept that I am no longer 16 with waist length hair, and I do own GHDs. But if I can't get a photo I like tonight they will just have to do.

Stumbled across a brilliant facebook group yesterday, 'Good Lord I'm Dying... the Medical Students' Curse'. Reading through hundreds of members' comments I realised I'm not the only one that has discovered how dangerous a little information can be. I have previously worried about having all sorts of problems, all conveniently linked to that week's PBL case. I've been diabetic, suffering with osteoarthritis, chronic fatigue syndrome, ankylosing spondylitis, an alcoholic (before reading the contraindications for using the CAGE questions- apparently you can't use them for students, we're all too proud of what we drink), lactose intolerant (true actually, and it was nice to understand why)... the list is pretty endless. However this course did teach me that I am actually anaemic, and that I guess was fairly useful to know. I think at the minute my only big problem is a particularly common one in medics before exam time- CRAFT Syndrome (or Can't Remember A F*cking Thing).

Stress eating

I'm still not making myself work. If anything I'm going out of my way to make sure I can't, by arranging job interviews, shifts with Students and Schools showing small people around the campus, and, yesterday, by leaving the house to drop a form off at Uni and managing to wander round aimlessly for over 5hrs. I ended up in town trying on hundreds of pairs of jeans, knowing full well that a) none will fit me, and b) if they do I still can't afford them. I came back home with hair dye and not a lot else.

My diet's suffering- I must be stressed underneath my far-too-relaxed exterior. Yesterday I ate chocolate ready brek, a turkish delight, chocolate fudge cake and cream, a dairy milk, 4 chocolate brioch rolls, and pasta with vegetable chilli (made at 9pm after realising I'd eaten nothing decent all day, but I'd already had 2 glasses of wine and so my concentration wasn't all there- it was burnt). I've started better this morning (Weetabix, pomegranate and blueberry juice, only one brioche roll) but the chocolate cravings are ridiculous. I go through months without touching the stuff but now I can't get enough. You'd never guess that this semester my exams are on diet and nutrition!

Progress tests but no progress.

I still should be revising, so of course am not. I had my first exam the other day- the dreaded Progress Test. It's such a waste of an afternoon at this stage in the course. Basically it's an exercise in guesswork. Judging by my previous attempts at it (we take it every semester) I'm quite good at eeny-meeny-miny-mo. A quality perhaps one might look for in a doctor, I don't know. Personally I'd rather not be forced into spending 2.5hrs being reminded of how little I know, being given case history after case history that I don't understand. The only one on the entire paper I was certain on was the one question my 10yr old brother could answer:

A 17 year-old girl presents to her GP in May. She complains of a runny nose (clear fluid) and sneezing. The symptoms worsen on exposure to cut grass. Does she have;
a- Rhinitis
b- Tonsilitis
c- Asthma
d- Hay fever
e- Bronchitis

Sigh. It does annoy me when they try and dumb one or two down to make us feel better when we know one. It didn't make me feel better at all.

So I've decided that ER is a legitimate revision strategy, and Doctors at 2.05 prompt every day of course. This Morning has a health section at least once a week too, which means I never have to leave the sofa. I might regret this in a week's time when the panic sets in.

My week has been so dull. The highlight today was attending a debate on stem cell research. Annoyingly it had free wine. Wouldn't have been quite so annoying had I not been the dimwit that offered to drive. Could have murdered for a Merlot. Yesterday my excitement was cleaning the bathroom. I had an hour to spare before Desperate Housewives and so decided to have a bath. I thought I'd quickly clean around and about beforehand. Mistake. The year's-worth of thick grime that had accumulated took the entire hour to remove, and so I ended up having to leave my nice relaxing bath for another day.

Incase you were wondering, my date never happened. Last-minute cancellation, good excuse, not really holding up much hope for it being rescheduled. He's been warned against seeing his students during exam time, which I guess is sensible, and who knows if he'll still be interested in another fortnight's time. I'd like to think so, but we'll see won't we?

To revise or not to revise?

It's revision time, that godawful time of year when everyone seems to be doing more work than you, and yet still there are hundreds of people in the pub. It doesn't help that it's been beautifully sunny the past few days too, so beer gardens are far too tempting. I've managed to resist most of the time, but that doesn't mean I've been hard at the studying either. Shopping, facebooking and baking have been taking up most of my days. I really need to crack on, else I'll be coming back in Summer for the resits.

I had my last ever day in uni the other day. In September I'll be based in Hope Hospital in Salford instead of in Stopford, which will be a big change. I'm not sure I'm ready yet. I don't know anything!

I also have a date tomorrow. I'm quite terrified, I've not been on a date since I was 17.

I'm going to spend tonight trying to relax and not think too much about tomorrow. I'm looking forward to sitting infront of rubbish TV, after the madness that was last night. We went to see Jeremy Kyle being filmed, which was awesome. He is a very small, skinny man with an absurdly large head. He's quite funny though. Then we went to a house party, which was a horrendously drunken affair. Apparently it went on until 8am, so I'm very glad I left when I did. All-in-all, I need a night in and some decent sleep.

Letter to my landlord

Dear Landlord

Quite frankly, you’re pissing us off. For almost a year now we have lived with a torrent of repair men, handy men, builders, and lets not forget yourself as well, wandering onto the premises as and when you please. Are you aware you’re supposed to give us, your tenants, 24hrs notice before coming to the property? Yes, of course you are, how can you not be- WE TELL YOU EVERY WEEK. Yet still you insist on turning up unannounced, still you go out of your way to get under our feet.

Of course you’re not the only thing under our feet. As a result of your shoddy workmanship (why use one piece of wood when seven smaller ones and a lot of glue will do) and your apparent disregard for the council’s instructions, we have rats. We actually managed to let one decompose for several days before discovering the carcass as it happened to die underneath the broken leaky sink, which already smelt pretty awful. We had already asked you to fix that, by the way.

While we’re on the subject, there are a few other things we’ve asked you to fix this year. The broken tap in the bathroom that spurts hot water across the room and won’t turn off again. Well, it’s supposed to be hot water, but with the boiler being as temperamental as it is (and you never bothering to sort it), it does often end up being cold. While I have my cold shower in the morning I’m regularly hit on the head by the broken shower door, which we requested you fix in fresher’s week. The broken drawers in my bedroom that I have to store my clothes in could do with being repaired. Then there’s the hole in a bedroom window that lets in a breeze. The kitchen cupboard door doesn’t open the whole way. The door to the conservatory doesn’t close the whole way. And don’t even get me started on the conservatory…

So basically I want to tell you not to bother booking the people to pave the garden. There are a hundred more important jobs that need doing first. With our exams coming up, we don’t want our revision time to be filled with more workmen and more stress, unless they’re nice well-qualified plumbers and builders that won’t be in our way for weeks and might actually finish the job they start. Feel free to do whatever the hell you like after the 10th June though- we will all have gone home, safe in our warm, clean and rat-free houses. I can’t bloody wait!

The Tenants

Oh if only I could send it...