KEVIN: No really, it’s not lupus

A 23 y.o male patient visits you for his annual checkup. He reports no emergent symptoms and feels generally “fine.” However, you notice a stiffness in the way that he walks, as if his thighs were sore. On thoracic examination, you observe several red welts, with no apparent pattern, about the size of a half dollar that circumscribe an unraised area. The lesions are tender to the touch.

What is your next action?
A. Assess the patient for erythema multiforme
B. Berate yourself for not getting a more complete history
C. Congratulate the patient for an evening well spent, the sly devil
D. Tell the patient to stop being terrible at paintball

Most “professional” caregivers will answer B, and I’m pretty sure answer C will get you into trouble. But since it’s my question, the answer is D. And yes, I’m referring to myself. A group of us med students visited Paintball Atlanta last Saturday on a lark. I almost did not attend, but had fond memories of my previous paintballing experience in high school. Nothing can quite replicate the sharp welts and sore thighs that accompany the sport.

All in all, we had fun and we got to relieve some studying-related tension. We ended up on different teams, but since all the real players had their own paintball markers and camouflage gear, we managed to drag our respective teams down, such that the playing field was level. And, despite my own general paintball inadequacy, I’ll claim that I didn’t make it out the worst. Here are some of my favorite lesions from the day:

This bearded fellow had some suspicious new marks:

This leg is not mine:

We kept track of which round it was based on how many times Lynn had been shot in the head and neck:

And a picture of the group posing in front of a nice car and a Waffle House:

JACKIE: An awkard situation that wasn’t awkward at all

How many of you future medical students are afraid of the moment when you must perform your first rectal or pelvic exam? I’ll tell you what: I certainly was. Actually, I suppose fear isn’t really the right word to describe the feeling that overcame me when envisioning my first rectal exam; it was more like dread. Super major dread. I just did not want to do it. I know that may be childish and/or unprofessional, but given the facts of the act, I simply would have preferred to never, ever do it.

I am pleased to report that our practice sessions for the pelvic and rectal exams were far from fearful or dreadful. In fact, these sessions were enlightening, anxiety-releasing, edifying experiences. We were given careful instruction with videos, demonstrations, dummies, little plastic prostates and breasts, and all the rest of the nine yards, and then we were broken down into small groups in which we each practiced the exam on a standardized patient. I know, it sounds like it would be awkward, but somehow it really wasn’t. Each of my classmates exhibited a perfectly appropriate mix of nervousness and professionalism that I admired. The patients were extremely helpful, giving feedback and assuaging our concerns. All in all, it was quick and painless and way better than I thought it would be. I now feel confident that I could adequately perform a pelvic or rectal exam if ever called upon to do it. This feeling is obviously way better than the dread I felt before these practice sessions.

My take away message in this short, pithy story is this: Don’t spend too much time worrying about these exams. Someone will teach you how to do it, and you’ll do it and it will be totally fine. I promise.

Welcome to medical school…

-Jackie

ANTOINETTE: Homage to Team Manning

Some background: the M1 class is broken down into four societies (so Hogwarts-esque) and those four societies are broken down into four small groups. Each small group has 7 to 9 students and the small group leader is an Emory attending/faculty member. We meet two times a week: Tuesdays and Fridays. [Addendum: my small group gets really irritable when a session is replaced with lecture and our time together is whittled down to one session]. You do all the non-lecture feel-good learning with your small group: PBLs (Problem-Based Learning), physical exam skills, patient interviews, patient-doctor relationship, etc.

Now back to the love-fest. Some may call us a small group. But we’re more than that. We’re family.

We are eight different folks from very different strokes:

Alanna “I used to manage the world’s largest tick colony” McKelvey
Tony “Shaboy from Brooklyn but really, I went to a ritzy prep school” C-Q
Doug “Wiki-Man” Wetmore
Jin “Our silent secret weapon” Lee
Hreem “I’ve only got my Boo (and Chicago) on the mind” Dave
Adam “Sparky, bearer of Esoteric Truf” Carlisle
Antoinette “I feel very weird writing a descriptor for myself” Nguyen
Dr. Kimberly “mother of Thing 1 and Thing 2” Manning

With a small group advisor who looks like this:

And a small group who looks like this:

Can you really blame me for loving these people? But it wasn’t love at first sight. That’s the beauty of it. I never imagined that we’d become so tight-knit, but tight-knit we are. Even though we come from different backgrounds with different families and different experiences, our small group just “clicks.” We have our rituals: the inside jokes, the 10 minute de-briefing pre-session, the hate list…But most importantly, it’s a safe space where there’s open communication and honesty. I feel comfortable discussing clinical questions but also bringing up personal issues, about medical school, family, match.com and anything and everything under the sun. And I know the feeling’s mutual. While Team Manning is not attached at the hip 24/7 off-campus, we look out for each other. And that’s a comfort amidst the hustle and bustle that is medical school.

I’m not hating on any other small group. Every group has their own vibe. Ours just happens to be slightly over-the-top and probably annoying. I’m okay with that.

I won’t post again until after summer break. So to all the incoming Class of 2012 folks, WELCOME! Enjoy the rest of your summer. Do whatever it is that makes you happy. But whatever you do, don’t study. See you soon!

over and out scout,

Antoinette