Goats and Boot Camp



Goats are intrepid little creatures.  I’ve been noticing the goats more and more lately.  There are goats on the road, there are goats on the mountainsides, and there are goats that do little goat prance-y dances on the walls that help form the road.  The other dorm has HBO for entertainment, our dorm has goats for entertainment, and the goats never disappoint.  If you hear the bushes rustle, it is probably goats.  While goats in the bushes doesn’t sound impressive, it is impressive when you consider that the mountainside the goats are doing their little prance-y dance on is at a 45 or 50 degree incline.  When the Dutch came here back in the 1600s they must have brought some of those classic little mountain goats with them.  I’ve decided to become goat-like in my approach to life here.  In order to flourish I will climb mountains and look for reasons to do my own personal little prance-y dance.

My dad keeps referring to this first semester of medical school as “boot camp.”  It seems like the best comparison I’ve heard so far.  Instead of shouting “GET DOWN AND GIVE ME 20 YOU LITTLE GIRLS” it’s more of “Name this muscle.  What is its innervation?  What is it perfused by?  What action does it perform? Where does it originate and insert?”  If you manage to get all of those right it’s “Fiiiiine, now tell me the rest of the upper limb.  GO.”  Imagine all of that while being surrounded by your peers giving you judge-y faces, and your professor just staring you down until you answer or crack.  Imagine that every day, pretty much all the time, and then you have some idea of what medical school is like.  Oh, and don’t forget to toss in the whole: living in a crappy dorm, not knowing anyone, and being on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere….

Boot camp seems more and more apropos. 

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