I shadowed a surgeon on the labour ward today and I have been so excited about this for weeks. My weird obsession is most likely fuelled by watching One Born Every Minute and Call the Midwife, or perhaps by the fact that I owe my life to the Caesarean section procedure. So I have wanted to see one for years – I wanted to see patients that weren’t sick for a change.

The problem is, you get really used to talking to sick people. I found myself on the ward thinking about pathology, pathology, pathology which made it really awkward to talk to the women. I didn’t know how to chat about normal life and I felt like an inconvenience. Not only inconveniencing the patients and their husbands, but also the surgeon who was madly dashing about. I kept losing her, which was problematic because my card did not have access to the labour suite or theatres, so I had to wait outside the door for someone to let me in. And then I pissed off a midwife by talking to her patient without her permission, so I really felt unwanted in obstetrics.

Feeling awkward, unwanted and rushed, I found my way to the right theatre where I was viewing a third degree perineal tear repair. Don’t look up what that is, you simply don’t want to know, but I can tell you it is messy. I am a medical student, I am meant to be hardened to the sight of blood. But there was so much blood and the patient was awake with an epidural. I kept seeing her move her head sleepily while I was trying to concentrate on watching the different stitches. But the blood was so bright in the theatre lights and aggressively red. Not like when you cut your finger and it is dull, but vibrant and pulsing. I tried to stand there but when my vision started blurring and I felt palpitations I turned away and bent over to write in my notebook. I hoped the surgeon would think I was writing notes, but I actually wrote this:

Do not falter, Do not wander,

Don’t admit what you don’t know.

Don’t be timid, Don’t be stupid,

Don’t forget you’re on your own.

When it’s hard, When it’s scary,

Hold your head up and push longer.

Don’t show you’re hurting, They’ll have no mercy,

What won’t kill you makes you stronger.

You have no time for fainting feelings,

Just ignore your head that’s reeling,

Hold on

It’s time for self belief

Sorry to include this ridiculous rambling, but I am being honest. It’s stupid because it was written in an attempt to stop myself from fainting and crying and being disappointed that my favourite specialty was not right for me. I’m not sure how medical students are supposed to prove themselves. I keep learning every day but I don’t see the progress in myself. I don’t feel more of a doctor than I did last week. I feel deflated.

The next surgery was an elective Caesarean section which seemed a relatively quick and easy procedure. Everyone gushes as the baby is born. The amniotic fluid explodes out and the baby is pulled out grey and scrunchy – like they want to go back in out of the cold. The nurses rubbing his face are cooing. Dad comes over bursting with pride. Mum lets out a cry as she hears him. But I felt so deflated. I didn’t get the rush I thought I would.

It’s not about me. That’s the point of medical school. That’s the reason you put yourself through years of feeling awkward around patients – it’s not about you, it’s about making them feel better. Sometimes it’s hard to remember why I chose medicine when I am being quizzed by a consultant on anatomy and struggling to take blood from an elderly collapsed vein. I don’t like it when people smell funny, and look pale and skinny, and groan in pain. They cry and I can only hold their hand and say I’m sorry. I can’t help them. Still, I don’t think I chose medicine because I wanted to help people. It’s silly, but for me disease is really exciting, even though it’s not easy to deal with. I like the challenge, it makes me feel alive. I like to push myself.  Pushing through life is competitive and ridiculous, but it’s the medical school way. Like birth, it will be worth it in the end.