Yes, done with Intermediate Cycles 2 and 3, and voila, here I am facing Senior Cycle 1.
May God grant me patience during my Paediatrics posting. And help me appear less fearsome in countenance when dealing with young children. I know I have a reputation for making babies cry, so dear Lord, I ain't sure how to not make them cry, but I'll try.
Intermediate Cycle 3 is something I call an 'oddball, clown in the box' semester. The perfect combination of chaos, a whirlwind of God-knows-what hustle and a rude introduction to the pricks of the medical world. Thankfully I did not get to see such ruinous lack of piety or tyrannous rape of medical ethics when I was in my formative years, else I would have given up the idea of studying medicine.
I couldn't have survived IC3 without plenty of help (the same way I might not have survived IC2 without some assistance, both temporal and divine).
Been down in the pits since January, and noticed a rise in the recklessness of my tongue in the past few months. Thankfully my brains did not fry, else I might not be here typing out what I deem, the perfect hodge-podge of IC3 madness.
Imagine not knowing even basic Orthopedics after your introductory 2-week orthopedic posting! The feeling of rejection when the so-called 'professional' specialist who was hired to guide students throughout the Orthopedic posting at X Hospital decided to just 'makan gaji buta' and treat us like wall flowers.
Even worse was the Breast and Endocrine posting! The MOs and some of the HOs were really cocky bastards - and you know what, at the end of the day, they just blamed their cockiness on their workload. Which is actual bullshit, because I've done two electives in Penang General Hospital, which believe me is way busier than that country-bumpkin settlement out in the middle of nowhere, and I was treated with respect by HOs and MOs who were willing to teach any medical students eventhough they weren't paid to do so. So, shame on you, Hospital X.
Well, IC3 was the semester that drove home the point: Do not be like Dr X when you grow up, because he was such a pain-in-the B.
Shouting will not teach anybody anything, And blaming your workload for your lack of manners is a poor disguise of your wrong choice of profession.
Wolves in sheeps' clothing indeed.
Overall, I am glad IC3 is over, and I did well for the IC3 finals despite the carnage that was IC3.
So, that's it. Done with the craziness of IC3. And now saying hello to the great unknown (or is it?) of Senior Cycle 1!