Last weekend I packed up Mox and headed for my State of Origin to get the hell out of B’s way so he could “enjoy” an weekend of studying sans distractions. I thought this was a marvelous idea, and it was, except that I didn’t take into account how much B appreciates those distractions sometimes. Especially in the final throws of Step 1 prep. Here are a few observations I’ve made about med students studying for their Step 1.
They are lacking human interaction. I like to chat with B when I get home from work. About my day, the irritating email I got, the reason we got No Reason Cake, etc. One recent day I was on a roll when I stopped myself noting that his brain is likely at maximum capacity. But then he told me something: I am the only human being he had talked to all day. I was stymied. All day? I spend large portions of my day avoiding talking to other humans. I work in marketing so I get phone calls all day long from people trying to sell me things from swag to sponsorships. So yeah, I screen. I talk to the people who work in the general vicinity of my cube, say hi as I walk down the hall, I talk to the people at the doggy-daycare place, I talk to the check out people at Whole Foods, I make at least one phone call on my way home every day. I can hardly imagine going through my day without talking to another human being. It actually sounds a little lovely. Until you start to go a touch bit stir-crazy.
They are stir crazy. I’ve got my nightly routine down-pat: come home, play with Mox, make dinner, eat dinner with B, hang out with B for about half an hour, clean up from dinner, walk Mox, phone a friend while I pack my lunch for the next day, collapse on the couch to either a) watch some embarrassing reality program, b) read The Onion, or 3) zone out, take Mox out, brush teeth, sleep. This routine will occasionally deviate due to happy hours and the like, but this generally rings true. With B’s limited human interaction though, he’ll occasionally come down from the
dungeon office and want to spend a few minutes just hanging out. What? Now? During my tedious but expertly-timed evening routine? Like I’m going to say no. But after about seven minutes of The Real Dog-Walker Mediums of Palm Beach he’s looking forward to more hepatology.
They spend large portions of the day seated, hunched over books. B emerges from his office with creaky legs and his hands permanently shaped as they would hold a book – in a claw-like formation. He has highlighter stains on his fingers and paper cuts from flipping through the study guides. This cramming stuff is no joke. Thankfully we have our regularly schedule gym appointments to stay fit and I keep the vegetables coming his way to avoid scurvy.
They are glassy-eyed from over-full brains. But that isn’t isolated solely to Step 1. That’s pretty much always.
Don’t worry child, it will all be over soon.