Many a time, my understanding housemates have shifted my copy of Kumar and Clark from the toilet or have told me, as I run around the house like a headless chicken in search of my white coat, that I am in fact wearing it. I am also quite positive that medicine makes you hallucinate. I remember sitting on a train back from London, opposite a man with very prominent veins on his forearm and the dorsum of his hand. I could see these massive cable-like veins and was imagining how satisfying it would be to insert quite large gauge cannulas into them. A loud announcement over the Tannoy that had something to do with sandwiches at Wolverhampton quickly roused me from my hallucination, and I continued on my journey with my head firmly buried in my magazine.
Delusions are commonplace within the sphere of medicine too.
Despite the massive amount of work I had done for A level, I firmly believed that all of my preclinical anatomy course could be revised in 36 hours. Other psychiatric manifestations are frequently seen in medical schools up and down the country. I am seriously worried about my mental heath. I am considering packing in medicine altogether and becoming cabin-crew for Virgin Atlantic, an inexplicable childhood dream, or possibly joining the circus.