DOCTOR COMIC - PART 6

Her name was the eponym for pain, in another language of course, and hereby HIPAA compliantly introduced to you, dear reader. She didn’t feel like eating before the increasing lethargy sent her off to our ER where she coded for an unspecified amount of time and came back to life miraculously with not even a single rib broken from chest compression. As a result, multiple organs within her cachectic body went on a coordinated strike and demanded further negotiation with life and death in the ICU.

The effort to wean her off the ventilator was eventful with multiple attempts of breathing tube self-removal requiring a multitude of sedation and complicated adjustment. Not a sigh of relief was there when the drama of the ventilator machine completed and she could breathe on her own from a nasal cannula, since the oxygen in her blood quickly dropped to an alarmingly low level whenever she yanked the oxygen off and hoarsely declared that she wanted to jump off a bridge.

So essentially, she was dependent on the nasal cannula and she became extra saucy whenever her oxygen turned low with her frequent dislodging of the device. Provided that she had the oxygen flowing at above 6 liter a minute, she would be more reasonable; however, she remained as feisty as possible. We had to put padded mittens on her hands to prevent her from digging into her thighs out of frustration since the wrist restraint stopped her from removing the cannula. Whenever I tried to put the mittens back after her uncanny successes to pull them off, I noticed her fingernails with chipped polish in the shade of red wine imprinting angry indentation over the thin translucence of her bony palms.

DOCTOR COMIC - PART 5

Source: Rhymeswithorange

"I don’t think you are from around here because your English isn’t very good”

It was not the elderly patient with acute mental status change who made the statement during her brief moments of lucidity in the ER, it was her son who said that immediately after asking where I was from. As a response, normally I would share I was an immigrant who came here more than ten years ago. However, the way he looked at me and the tone of his voice completely caught me off guard. I just finished the discussion on the plan of care for his mother who was to be admitted and asked him what question he had for me when it dawned upon me the real reason why he asked, and the absurdity of it made me chuckle and excuse myself quickly from the room.

DOCTOR COMIC - PART 4

Source: Chainsawsuit

When you're done with undergraduate education, what do you usually do? I know this girl who went straight to medical school after an exotic vacation along the coast of Vietnam (the flight took 27 hours, one way.) Other people got married and flooded Facebook with artsy wedding photos (I wasn't invited.) Another guy fought with his dad then stabbed him multiple times (he looked startled in his online mugshot.) Oh so many juicy details that I could babble about all day, so I don't have to talk about myself.

You probably remember my rants on the medical school application a while back. Now when I think about it, that time was actually quite fuzzy and fluffy like a fat country baby eating peaches off the hard wood floor. Maybe I should have complained a little bit less? But ranting makes me feel so good, so that's what I'm gonna do.

Doctor Comic - Part 3

Source: Buttersafe

I finally took the MCAT last Friday. The amount of coffee I drank pumped me up so high till I crashed down and slept like a dead log hours later into the night. I've come to the conclusion that the amount of stress you got after the test is inversely proportional to the amount of time you spent studying. Last summer when I took the test, which I failed of course, I didn't have the smallest piece of anxiety or fear or any negative feeling. Now that I spent months preparing, I've been haunted with so much fear regarding my scores, which I will share with you below.

The highest maximum score anyone can get from this test is 45T, with the letter is for the writing samples' score. To be hopefully accepted, you need to have a 27; to be competitive, you need at least a 10 for each of the three sections other than the writings. So here comes the possibilities.

1. I fail it again. My family disowns me so I have to go sell peanuts at the stadium where people watch American football. Don't get me wrong, selling peanuts competitively is an art and if you don't meet your quota, you are fired. As I run toward a waving customer on the horizon, a smiling shady old man smacks my butt, which makes me trip on his cane, spill all of my nuts, break my spine, and get paralyzed from the neck down. "You drop your nuts, little boy," he says. The end of my life.

Doctor Comic - Pas Deux

Source: Buttersafe

This is the second comic that puts doctor, patient, and butt together, just like the one I posted in this entry a while ago. I am being the dullest person on the face of the Earth, doing nothing but pretending to study for the MCAT, which is coming on the second of September. Whenever I think about it, I feel as if I just carelessly step on a baby's face while calling the mom fat or something equally devastating.

Apparently, I don't know how to read actively and critically enough. I guess I daydream too much. For example, below is a sample of how my brain processes a passage as I am reading it with the italic representing my thoughts.

Philosophers Immanuel Kant and David Hume both spent their professional careers searching for a universal principle of morality... ugh, what the fuck, not philosophy again... Considering that they began their searches with seemingly irreconcilable...damned hate big words...ideas of where to look...blah blah...the similarity in the moral systems they constructed is surprising...yeah...yeah my ass is surprising...

And then a brain transplant?

So that's how I fail the so called verbal reasoning on the MCAT, beside my inability to comprehend, I often bear this intense animosity toward the passages themselves. There should be no reason to have such sentiments toward those passages, they are only designed to wear my brain down, lower my overall scores and ultimately prevent me from going to medical schools altogether. As a result, I'd be so green with envy and turn into a giant cucumber when all of my friends touch their first cadavers and contemplate the meaning of life and death. To prevent this from happening, I have come up with several ways to learn how to love those passages:

Doctor Comic

I ran into this comic today, from the Three Word Phrase by Ryan Pequin. It's hilarious and yes it is so wrong on so many levels but I love it.

Ideally I would be going to medical school this coming fall, but since my spirit has been *insert puppy-eyed excuses here* so yeah... it won't be happening right away. But I will do it, y'all. 

I have got all the material I need to study for the MCAT. I want to make it my little bitch and tap its ass. I got a bootleg version of the famed Berkeley review, the much-acclaimed ExamKrackers, and access codes for practice tests. Starting next week y'all, I will start studying again, or shall I say, make it my little bitch and tame it till the day I ride it majestically straight to med school. Focus Focus and Focus, of course. With no "bad poop in my butt," I can do it.