John Lawrence - Playing Doctor Part One: Medical School - Stumbling through with amnesia

Contained herein are my recollections of medical training. I had an atypical story in that I never really planned to go to medical school and when I eventually started, did so with a traumatic head injury. Over the course of this book, and the following ones covering residency training, you will witness the transformative arc as a confused student studying books, goes through the terror of seeing actual patients; to the grunt work faced as interns; and finally the mild confidence discovered as a doctor during residency, with increasing responsibility and experience managing complicated cases, along with the accompanying fear.

While I occasionally lump doctors into clichd groups, like cardiologists intimidating medical students, dont take all I say to heart. I promise you that while everything I write did happen, the tone of the book is often quite tongue in cheek. I have the utmost respect for the doctors and nurses I worked with; they work harder than most of you will ever know and care deeply about their patients.

I have had many wonderful teachers who encouraged and instructed everyone to work the only way they knew how: do your best; do everything the right way. That is the only acceptable way to practice medicine to them. Thank you for letting me share in your profession. While I occasionally tried to work to the high standard you set, this book will quickly crush any notion that I ever came close.

I was accepted to medical school because of sex change surgery. Its that simple. Yes, I passed some tests and jumped through the required hoops, so getting in wasnt completely out of the question. But then, Dr. Doug Ross showed up. Thats right, roguishly charming George Clooney staggered into County Generals ER, and suddenly everybody wanted to play doctor. As audience temperatures rose, medical school applications skyrocketed. NBC and the stethoscope wielding cast of ER had effectively obliterated any chance of my becoming a doctor.

Am I prone to exaggeration? Perhaps, but in 1994 when ER first aired, 77,000 applicants, all dreaming of evaluating urinary output shoulder-to-shoulder with Dr. Doug Ross, competed for just over 17,000 available seats in medical school. Unfortunately, that was also the year I applied. When ER went off the air, applicant numbers dropped to half that number. So, Im not joking when I say the only reason the school accepted mea broke, liberal arts educated, river-rafting guide and flailing environmental entrepreneurwas quite literally due to gender altering surgery.

As ER gave mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to medical schools previously diminished applicant pools, the school selection committees became more discriminating about whom to let in. Medical schools started expecting applicants to pass the required pre-med classes, do well on the MCAT,and demonstrate an interest in medicine.

I happily graduated college without achieving a single one of those requirements.

During my undergraduate years at Georgetown University, I studied American Government (I was living in D.C. after all), and English (a language I spoke relatively well), and did not take a single pre-med class. My favorite classes included Acting, Shakespeare in Performance, and a screenwriting elective. I harbored no thoughts of a medical career. In fact, my only exposure to medical school was witnessing a group of swaying drunks holding each other upright while belting out Sweet Caroline in The Tombs, a popular college bar where I worked. The bartender informed me that this boisterous crew had just graduated medical school. You sensed their chortling and toasting were more than your typical end of school celebration; rather, the backslapping camaraderie and booming laughter befitted a company that had survived some hellacious endeavor togetheran endeavor I had no desire to experience.

Early on in college, I had told my career advisor that the only thing I did not want to be was a doctor. I was not a fan of sick people, disliked the smell of hospitals (still do), and the idea of lugging massive pre-med textbooks across campus made my back hurt. An answer, however honest, that was unlikely to get me admitted to medical school.

To this day its troubling to explain why I applied to medical school if I wasnt really sure I wanted to be a doctor. Why go through the trouble, the cost, and the years it takes to complete medical training? Truthfully, I was a bit uncertain what to do after college. So many careers looked appealing, even medicine looked interesting. Several doctors then advised me, if you can imagine anything else you might want to do with your life, do that, only be a doctor if theres nothing else you want to do. I thought, well thats stupid, I can imagine lots of things to dothere were infinite appealing experiences and careers to choose from. And at 21, with life immortal, there was an eternity patiently waiting ahead to do it all. (Ah, to be immortal again!)

I did eventually justify to myself that medicine would be a purposeful career; one I could use anywhere in the world; with a possible shift-work schedule that would allow me the freedom to pursue my real dream (making movies) while simultaneously fulfilling some Freudian need to please my parents.

I freely admit a few months of therapy would have been a far more efficient means of dealing with my insecurities.

Regardless, my uncertainty later proved to be quite awkward because unsurprisingly, Why do you want to be a doctor? is a pretty common question the medical schools ask during the application process.

I want to help people, or, Ive wanted to perform heart surgery since pre-school, are typical responses.

Im not really sure I do, is not what you say to impress the admission committee.

To be fair, Im not the only person to question their medical career choice. I know more than a few students and residents bumbling down hospital hallways on Saturday nights, missing their family and friends, wondering, Do I really want to be a doctor? To the frustration of many supervisors, friends and family, I just happen to be very open about questioning my decisions in life.

So how did I actually decide to apply? The answer, oddly, lies in France.

Up to this point I had chosen to pursue a dependable career in law with a focus on environmental issues; however, after a few college summers working in law firms, my legal aspirations dimmed. Nonetheless, after graduating college, I took the LSATs, worked in a corporate New York City law firm, and then, to honor a signed blood pact (which I still have and, yes, drinks might have been involved), went to live off my very meager earnings, credit cards, and occasional payments for illegally guiding skiers through the French Alps. I journeyed with my college friend, Scott, who, far smarter than me, did eventually go to law school, and will appear in multiple hospitals later on.