Leaving the wrong job....?

For the last 5 years, I have had a vacation job during university holidays: I work in a museum. Not the small stuffy kind, the large, over a million visitors a year, amazing site, kind. It's had minor ups and downs over the lsat five years, but overall I have totally enjoyed it. I've been very lucky.

 This is not my museum! But it is a good one. Thanks to http://www.nyeparry.com/?page_id=619 for the picture.

I went back to work there recently after many months away (final exams) and was struck by a number of positives in this job which don't exist in medicine. I should have blogged about it at the time, but perhaps writing now will jog my thinking.

I love how in this job there is a team spirit, sometimes it's us against the world/tourists/tour group leaders/supervisors/powers that be, and that can unite a team, and sometimes it's us generally putting effort into ensuring that tourists and customers have a memorable few hours at our site, together. As a student it's difficult to really be "involved" in any hospital team, but none of the teams I've had anything to do with have had a team spirit that I could sense from my position as a student at the edge of the team.

One thing that particularly struck me is the culture of respect. It's a big group of people so of course some people grate on others a little, but even so there is a sense that the staff respect each other. In particular, people respect the supervisors, but not just because they're supervisors, but because a) they're (mostly) good at their supervising, b) are nice people, and c) they respect us. In medicine it sometimes feels like the seniors are respected because they demand respect, not because they deserve it. It creates a very different culture. It's not a big deal, and it's only noticeable when you start to think about it, or when you've been working elsewhere that doesn't have such a culture.

Recently in the museum a slight change in the system was trialled, and the supervisor asked my group of assistants for our thoughts and feedback - the senior staff genuinely want to know what the "junior" staff, the people actually implementing the changes, think about it, and will take those comments on board. It's not often that I've seen seniors in medicine asking for juniors' thoughts and feedback, except in a grilling and knowledge-testing sense.

Even at the busiest and most stressful times, people are generally happy and still so willing to help each other out. Again, not always evident in medicine. But maybe the stress is different - in the museum stressful times means long queues, angry customers, obnoxious tour group leaders etc. In medicine stressful times can mean the weight of the responsibility for patient's lives, especially when the line between a patient living or dying starts to thin. Perhaps the difference is stress contexts explains the differences in atmosphere here.


A colleague, for whom this is also "just" a vacation job, asked me today if I don't find this job a bit menial, since I have a good degree and will be a highly qualified professional (clearly indicating he finds it menial for this reason). I first told him he needed a slap, then pointed out I have two good degrees! Just because I'll be a qualified professional, in a totally different area to this job, doesn't mean this job is beneath me. It has taught me a great many skills, such as: communicating across language barriers and cultural barriers, communicating with children, diplomacy and tact in customer service, particularly with difficult customers (which transfers to diplomacy and tact in dealing with patients, particularly "difficult patients"), conveying complicated information in a way the recipient will understand, and the ever-useful skills of voice projection and crowd control. None of these are medical skills, but all of them are likely to be useful during my medical career. That's not something to sniff at.
There is the additional benefit that this role has enabled me to be competent and above all, confident, in dealing with many, many people, and confidence is not something one can acquire overnight, or just by magic or good intentions. The confidence I've gained from putting effort into this job, and knowing from the responses from colleagues and customers that I'm doing it well and making a small diference to someone's day, is something I couldn't have gained simply from being a medical student. A medical student I've found is frequently too much of a fifth wheel to have much of a sense of achievement (that's not to say that achievements aren't made, but just not on the same level).


Now the terrible bit is that I realised recently how much I enjoy this job, and how many of the things are appreciate are not present in medicine. I could only wonder why I'm leaving a job I've enjoyed, for one that predominantly scares me, in an environment which I don't always enjoy or feel respected or comfortable in. It feels a little bit mad.

Perhaps part of the reason I've enjoyed the job is because I know I won't be doing it forever, and perhaps if I were I would have a different approach to it. But I hadn't really thought about the fact that I would one day be leaving this job, in order to take up my forever-job, (the one I've been studying seven year for) but now it's suddenly here, and I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm really not sure if I want to!

I can at least be thankful that I've had employment which I enjoy, to return to every holiday (and some weekends), in a group where I feel part of the team even if I've been away for months, and have been able to go through my education with far more financial security than I otherwise would have.

After all, if medicine all goes pear-shaped, I might always have a nice job to return to! I could be a museum-doctor.

First, I have to get through, and make the most of, my last day tomorrow. It feels like the end of an era, and it feels silly to leave a job I like*. Needs must....

(*It was suggested to me that I'd have enough holiday from my doctor-job to return to my museum job occasionally, but 1. I do quite like the idea of having a holiday which is entirely a holiday, no job or revision or essay-writing to have to do, and 2. most importantly, I couldn't justify it. I'd be on a nice NHS salary, taking part-time holiday work away from school leavers, students and other people who really need the money, when I really won't - that's not right, and I wouldn't have particularly wanted someone earning good money to take my shifts away from me the last few years, when I've needed the money.)

Carer's holiday, and a holiday for the carers

As I discussed extensively with Steph at Steph's two girls, I have a sister with Asperger syndrome (an autistic spectrum disorder). This week we went on holiday together. It was the first time she'd been away without our parents, so while it was a welcome break for them, it was a bit of an adventure for her.

My mother was convinced we would come back not speaking to each other, but we were even still laughing with each other.

However, I've come back with a newfound respect for people who can organise and take responsibility for a holiday and for other people's needs, when the other people can't communicate those needs. Taking care of meeting someone's needs without knowing what the exact needs are at that time and place is a skill I haven't yet perfected.

I've also come back with a newfound understanding of the little difficulties in coping that, when added together, make an independent life currently impossible. And a wonder about how outsiders, such as the lovely people at ATOS who will assess her disability living allowance, can possibly notice or understand such minutiae, and comprehend how someone who at first seems competent if a bit odd, actually requires extensive support.

But we survived, and had a lovely (if exhausting) time. Would we do it again? Yes, but preferably with better communication on what each person's preferances, needs, and limitations are, with updates when they change. That would be the life...

And also ideally with a sense that all the independence training that the holiday involved was in some way wanted or appreciated. It's difficult to have no idea but feel the need to pursue the ideas of independence and gaining skills anyway.

But yes, we would do it again.

I want to fail

Before I go much further, I should update this, that I failed one of the final exams this year. Taking the title of this blog literally – trying, but not succeeding, to be a medical student…

It was a big deal at the time (I wrote a blogpost about it in my head, entitled [insert list of expletives here] because that was how it felt) and a big stress involving an appeals process relating to a “procedural error” during the exam, which was not in any way caused by me but impacted considerably on me (and only me). The appeal took two months, but was eventually as successful as it was ever going to be (not necessarily as successful as I’d have liked) and I’m allowed to take the re-take as though it’s my first attempt. This has no effect on the actual resit itself, but means that if I fail it, the medical school won’t be able to kick me out as they otherwise might have been able to. It guarantees me a third go, were I to need one. Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that, it’s already dragged on long enough.

So the advantage of this appeal result for now is simply in stress management – I should be less stressed going into it knowing that it’s not my last attempt, not a sudden death situation. And should therefore be more likely to do ok, at least that’s the theory.
(The other advantage is that it could, just possibly, be perceived as the medical school admitting responsibility for the “error” – which has not happened so far, and has not explicitly been said (quite the opposite, I was told it was one examiner’s fault and therefore not the medical school’s responsibility) but perhaps this appeal indicates that it was their responsibility. An apology would have been nice too, but I won’t ask for miracles.)

The re-take will be a three and a half hour long practical exam (as was the first one) at some point in June; I don’t anticipate finding out when any time soon – that would be far too useful.

So I have four final exams in the next four weeks, culminating in the massive scary practical one that expects me to know everything and prove I’m good enough to be a doctor. Which I’m not (obviously). Not yet anyway.
And then around four to six weeks after that, I’ve got the re-take of the one I’ve failed. Which is equally as big, but probably requires a bit less knowledge, and is re-learning what I learnt last time, rather than just learning, which is what I’m currently doing. And since I failed it by 3% last time, my chances can’t be too bad. And then about three weeks after the last exam (or medical placement or other medical school commitment, whichever comes later) I start work. I do six days of shadowing the junior doctor I’m going to take over from, and then on the 1st of August, same day as all the other junior doctors in the country, I start working properly.


Back to now: I very much wanted to pass all the exams in January. But this time around, I’m not sure if I care. Or even, I can see the benefits of not passing.
It would at least mean I get a break. If I fail something in May, if it’s a minor thing I might be able to re-take it in June with the other one. If it’s the major one I have to re-take in November, or re-take the year. If I fail more than one, I definitely re-take the year. Re-taking the year would not be fun – I haven’t particularly enjoyed it first time around, but I do have some friends in the year below (including a very good friend who is lovely), and I’d get through it, and maybe it would be good to understand what I’m seeing in practice, rather the see it and then understand later when it comes to revision/learning. Though that didn't apply to everything.

But the most important bit: if I failed in May and had to re-take the year, I would have no commitments between May and re-starting the year at the end of August. Three months with nothing. No commitments, nothing, just time to re-learn how to be a human being rather than a vile, miserable stressbag that is set to implode at any second. I like the idea of being a human being.

I know I said that I get three weeks off between end of exams and commitments, and starting work. Plenty of people could say that I’m lucky to get three weeks, that’s as much holiday as they get all year (and it’s not the only holiday I’ll get – I imagine I’ll have at least two weeks holiday from the job before the end of this calendar year). But those three weeks won’t fully be holiday. I’ll still be stressed for at least one week of it, or however long it takes for the medical school to give me my results. And I’ll be moving house, moving cities and finding somewhere to move to if I haven’t already found it by then. I’ll be moving away from the other half, which will be sad as it’s been quite nice living together again these last 6 months. Nice for me, not for him – I wouldn’t want to live with me at the moment.

So let’s say I get two weeks between getting my results saying I’ve passed and am allowed to be a proper doctor, and starting work. And though I intend to holiday then, though not quite sure of the details since other half’s job does not allow holiday in July or August (bit of a bummer when the only time properly off I’ve had this year has been one week in January and the three weeks in July. But a job is a job, so cannot complain), those two weeks will have some elements of stress to them.

For those that think that students doss around and being a student is a perpetual holiday, 2012 has mapped out thus: January – massive revision, final exams, one week off. February and March – full-time placements (full-time being around 8.30 til anytime between 3 and 8, minimum 4.5 days a week), three pieces of horrible written coursework case reports, compiling the horrendous and enormous student formulary, which is just a giant list of 180 drugs and everything you might want to know about them, and completing all the clinical skills for the year. Which I made difficult for myself by losing my skills book in December, and having to start all over again in February. April – one week of placement, one week full-time revision (“vacation” is a lie), two weeks organised revision with lectures etc, then final exams. May – final exams, one week off, which isn’t really when you have a re-take in June looming, then placements and/or intensive revision for the re-take. June – more intensive revision, re-take final exam, then more placements as required. I hope that makes clear that my requirement for some actual time off is not me being pathetic. The only time off I’ll have had all year, the only time off since August last year, was one week in January. Not enough to maintain sanity.

Anyway, my main point is that two weeks is unlikely to be enough to re-learn how to be a human being. Or to fully catch up on sleep and learn how to sleep properly again (I can't remember when I last had a good night's sleep). Especially not two weeks involving moving house and beginning to become slightly petrified about actually having people’s lives as my responsibility.

So failing and having three months off becomes more and more appealing. Which might explain my total and complete lack of motivation for revision and working and any kind of real exam preparation.

The other possibility is failing the big one and re-taking it in November, which would give me five months between the last June exam and the re-take in November, a little time to re-gain my sense of human. And the best bit – no commitments between November and the following July. Seven+ months in which to go nuts and have a great time, go travelling, well and truly re-learn how to be a human being and maybe even how to be a good one. Put it into practice.

The only reason not to go ahead with this genius plan is that I’d lose my academic foundation programme. Which is potentially my passport to whatever post-graduate training I want, and an overall good career. Seems a shame to forgo that. There’s also the issue that I’d have to do all of the exams all over again, but I think doing them a year later (or even five months later with the November option) and with some pre-existing knowledge, I’d stand a much better chance.

Maybe the academic place is a good thing, as it’s the only thing really keeping me going. Though it’s not doing a very good job of that at all, since I’ve been averaging less than two hours work a day this week. Admittedly there have been some revision lectures, and I spent yesterday at a revision course (watch this space for a review) but even so, an hour or two a day is pathetic. And nowhere near enough to pass the big ones.

But despite the incentive of the academic place, I can’t really bring myself to care. I imagine if I do fail, I’ll look back at this post with great regret and think about what an idiot I was. Whilst enjoying my three month long holiday, becoming a better person, and having a great time…

Maybe this is all just because I can’t in any way envisage myself passing (the last time I passed all my exams including practical ones was four years ago, and I’ve got a lot less good since then), so rather than dwelling on that negative, I’m looking for the silver linings in the, what currently feels inevitable, failure. It’s a shame the silver linings seem so tempting.
And that the academic programme isn’t as much of a carrot as I had hoped. Anyone have any tips on where to find motivation when all you need is some time off? I’ve already tried down the back of the sofa, and it wasn’t there.

(Feels a bit silly asking for tips, when no one's ever commented on anything in the year and a half history of this blog... maybe I need to find some readers, an audience. If you've read this, share it?)

Berlin, please be nice to us

If you've read the numerous blogposts which I have written in my head (and not written down anywhere) you'll know that I, and the other half, have a tendency to get desperately homesick.
Homesick for a place that isn't really home, where I only sort of speak the language, and where I only lived for 9 months of my 25 years. Not the most obvious definition for home.
But Berlin captured my heart, and I haven't yet got it back. I don't know if I ever will.

We're going there tomorrow, for the first time since we left, and I'm not going with the intention of getting my heart back. I just hope I don't leave even more of it behind - it will get too difficult.

Difficult because I don't imagine it will ever be particularly possible to live there again, at least not for any great length of time. Despite learning the language on and off since I was 11, I'm not quite fluent. I can hold a decent conversation about every day things (and less everyday things, like health insurance, and symptoms of endometriosis) but I could never persuade anyone that I'm anything near a native speaker. And to be a doctor, I believe you need to make a damn good attempt at that. Working with doctors here, with less-than-perfect English (including a whole presentation on "pregnancy women"), has convinced me that my chance of being a good doctor in Germany is slim. And if I can't be good, I shouldn't be doing it.
Additionally, the very dyslexic other half dislikes learning languages, it doesn't come naturally to him, and he works in hospitality - another area where language ability is definitely ideal (again, not always reflected in the UK). And one of his current aims in life is to make cider. Germany, and Berlin specifically, are not exactly known for their cider.
Add to that family commitments that may well keep me in this country in the future.

The overall conclusion is a minor dilemma. My heart is in one place, my life is in another. That can't easily be reconciled.

So I'm asking please, Berlin, be kind this week. Bring back good memories (there are many), and we'll create some new ones, but be gentle. I can't afford to leave any more of my heart - I think I'll be needing all I've got.

I'm scared.

[I realise this sounds terribly wishy-washy and overly emotional, I am not normally one for talking about hearts, other than in a medical biological sense. It's not intended to be slushy. I think it's a post-OSCE, post-exam brain talking. I had a four hour practical exam today and my brain has turned to mush. I am not a slushy person, but these are the best words to describe the longing that I have to be in a place that felt like home. Don't judge me.]