Joel Symonds
April 23rd - Adrenaline Junkie.
The final multiple choice paper is over almost before it's begun.
There's only so neurotic you can get in an hour's paper. Midge, Sensei and I pace around the coffee machine, shaking out our shoulders, before returning for the two hour slog of the short written paper.
More ECGs to identify, this one not as textbook as the 30 we've had to memorise for our cardiac practicals. I resist the temptation to look at all its features all at once and force myself to slow down and really analyse it.
"Junctional rhythm with multifocal PVCs and ST elevation"
Jesus....that sounds a bit complex. I wonder if I've talked myself into thinking its something far more complicated than it really is.
The remainder of the short written isn't too bad, revision and study pays off. My wrist aches and once again we all return to the coffee machine.
Midge approaches me.
"I know we're not supposed to PM the exams...but what did you put for that rhythm? I put junctional with multi-..."
"...focal PVCs and ST elevation?"
"Oh thank heavens...."
Adrenaline burns off from my system, my chest tightens up, I feel sleepy and restless and tearful. As we sit down to lunch, eight faces stare into their soup, sloughing off precarious stacks of memorised facts. Our minds are overstuffed sofas, lumpy and ungainly, the main chassis below still firm and strong, but with clumps of horsehair poking out at angles.
We rehearse practical scenarios in the afternoon, CPR drills and drug dosages. Nerves are contagious and hang in the air like ether fumes, most of us slip headphones in as defence against others' fearful chatter.
April 23rd - Adrenaline Junkie.
The final multiple choice paper is over almost before it's begun.
There's only so neurotic you can get in an hour's paper. Midge, Sensei and I pace around the coffee machine, shaking out our shoulders, before returning for the two hour slog of the short written paper.
More ECGs to identify, this one not as textbook as the 30 we've had to memorise for our cardiac practicals. I resist the temptation to look at all its features all at once and force myself to slow down and really analyse it.
"Junctional rhythm with multifocal PVCs and ST elevation"
Jesus....that sounds a bit complex. I wonder if I've talked myself into thinking its something far more complicated than it really is.
The remainder of the short written isn't too bad, revision and study pays off. My wrist aches and once again we all return to the coffee machine.
Midge approaches me.
"I know we're not supposed to PM the exams...but what did you put for that rhythm? I put junctional with multi-..."
"...focal PVCs and ST elevation?"
"Oh thank heavens...."
Adrenaline burns off from my system, my chest tightens up, I feel sleepy and restless and tearful. As we sit down to lunch, eight faces stare into their soup, sloughing off precarious stacks of memorised facts. Our minds are overstuffed sofas, lumpy and ungainly, the main chassis below still firm and strong, but with clumps of horsehair poking out at angles.
We rehearse practical scenarios in the afternoon, CPR drills and drug dosages. Nerves are contagious and hang in the air like ether fumes, most of us slip headphones in as defence against others' fearful chatter.