I am too familiar with the depth of this pit, and that’s probably because I dug it myself.
It’s 2 am and I have an exam tomorrow. I can no longer deny that there is a sinister force in the air. I’m in a freefall as the weight of materials I have not read pushes me over the edge. I failed to thread time to volume to be revised. Failed to thread through time in minutiae. You know how the 24 hours in a day fall short of what is perceived. Time moves at 2X speed, but you’re moving in real time. Time is never enough to do the needful.
I understand if you don’t understand what exams feel like in medical school. Maybe you cannot possibly relate to a feeling you have not experienced. Different medical schools call it by different names: test, end of posting (EOP) exam, but this doesn’t change the peculiarity of what it is. There is no ‘test’ in medical school, if we are to assume the test is a subdued exam. The complexity is primarily in the bulk of materials to be covered, the volume of information required to be a physician. It’s a good thing we learn on the job because I wonder how much the average medical student retains. You would expect that I have adapted to this familiar interloper, but I am quite, simply put, inured.
My medical school exam week experience is a flurry of emotions spanning the whole spectrum. It begins with panic and anger towards being ill-prepared. I take deep breaths, convince myself everything is okay. A false sense of composure. Believing I will definitely cover all I need to read.
It’s 2 am and my eyes are wide open. The clarity that I don’t seem to be covering hits me a few hours before dawn, except if ‘to cover’ means to pull a blanket over myself. Now, I put all my trust in Allah, believing not in the strength I possess, but in His divine intervention.
The post-dawn prayer baraka gives me a boost. I’m skimming through topics at 2X speed, matching the pace of time. Anxiety lays claim on my bowels, manifesting through my subconscious despite my calm facade.
In the exam hall, the exhaustion of days of strenuous preparation, evidenced by little sleep and maximum glucose depletion, threatens to get past the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I think and think. I write and write. I learn new things while reading through the options and it all begins to make sense. Does it, though? Fatigue begins to creep in, apparent as symptoms of low immune function draining out through a runny nose, and in the pain in my fingers, but I keep writing for an eternity that feels like not enough time.
To be truly happy is the feeling after an exam in medical school. I do not think it is possible to feel any happier in this world. The fulfilment that comes with having put in the hard work, of having strained beyond your limits. To you, the impossible no longer exists. Adrenaline is still high, I’m floating on the euphoria of relief. I have two days to shut my eyes and recharge. And a whole two months to make sure I don’t fall into this pit again.
As narrated by: Aishah Adekemi Ibikunle (Ilorin, Nigeria).
This snippet is published as part of the series, Surviving Medical School.
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