Fight, Flight, or Freeze: The Healer's Story
Chapter 34: She Was Right

Chapter 34: She Was Right

"Good morning everyone. My name is Doctor Zeng Jian Jun, and I will be your professor for Med100: An Introduction to Medicine." The man strolling in through the lower doors looked to be a bit young to be teaching medicine. And by that, I mean he was much younger than 60 years old.

His black hair was stylishly arranged, and underneath his doctor’s jacket was a well-pressed, baby blue dress shirt white with a tie and a pair of slacks. All in all, he looked like he had just walked off the film set of some medical drama or other.

I could hear the people in the chairs behind me shifting their weight around. I am sure that most of the women here wished that they had taken the chance to get to the lower seats and, therefore, closer to him.

Oh well, I guess they would have better luck tomorrow.

"I am passing around a piece of paper right now. I want you to write your name in the square you are sitting in. This will be your assigned seat for the rest of the semester," continued Professor Zeng as he handed out three separate pages, all with the desks already drawn in.

I guess the women weren’t going to get a second chance to make a first impression.

"Out of the 300 of you here today, I am going to assume that only 200 will be here by the end of the first year, and that is a conservative number. My record is that 59% of my students drop out of the class and, therefore, out of the program. Believe it or not, I am the nice teacher here. I hope you had a good summer, folks. It will be the last one that you see for a while."

There were murmurings throughout the classroom at his words, but I didn’t really pay them any mind. In fact, I was pretty sure that he had it right... he was the nice teacher for telling us this. I once had a professor who made a point of telling the first years that he didn’t take attendance, there were no tests except for the final exam, and there would be no assignments.

What he didn’t mention was that the final exam was worth 100% of your final mark, and if you weren’t in class to find out what was on the exam, there was no chance of passing it.

I think that year, only 12 people passed the course....

He was proud to have one of the highest rates of failure at the university—ah, good old Professor McCloud.

The whiteboard behind Professor Zeng lit up, and I could see the course number and title.

"This course is meant to give you a broad introduction to the language and culture of medicine... because, yes, it is a completely different one than what you are used to. Terms that seem foreign now will become your second language as you navigate your way through different cases and studies. We will also be preparing for a foundation in social sciences and humanities for further study later on. Finally, this class will provide a basis for the development of professional behaviors. Not only between students and teachers but between doctors and patients as well. Bedside manners have always been considered to be somewhat of a joke, but I am here to tell you that they just might be the thing that saves your patient’s life."

He looked around the room before his eyes settled on me. "Welcome to Medicine 100. Are there any questions?"

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There were only three classes offered to the first years, including Medicine 100. The other two focused on Patients, Concepts, and Communities.

Unfortunately for me, all the courses that I considered to be ’fun’, like Emergency Medicine, Internal Medicine, or Surgery, didn’t really happen until you were in your third year, which meant that I had more than enough time to go out of my mind with boredom before that happened.

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"Many doctors will experience a certain amount of ageism on a daily basis," said Professor Liao in our Patients, Concepts, and Communities class on the second day of school. The fact that she said it while looking straight at me with a look of pity on her face was enough to annoy me. "But it will be more than just ageism. There will also be patients who will accept or reject your advice based on your sex, your religion, your hair color, and whether or not you have any tattoos. Anything and everything will be up for debate and dismissal."

"But what does that have to do with anything?" asked one of the guys at the back of the amphitheater. "If we know what we are doing, what does it matter if we have tattoos or not?"

I turned around and looked at him. Sure enough, he was covered from the neck down in tattoos.

"Picture a doctor in your head," answered the teacher instead. An old, potbellied guy popped into mine, white tufts of hair on either side with his wired rim glasses falling down his nose.

"That is what you consider to be a competent doctor. Each patient will have a similar picture inside of their own head, which you may or may not fit. There is no point in getting angry or frustrated about it. No matter how the patient treats you, you must always do your best to make sure that they get the best treatment possible."

"But why?" demanded another student. Listen, buddy. I was shot in the head because I gave a diagnosis that the patient disagreed with. Would someone else have experienced the same thing? Maybe not. Maybe they just felt that I was not qualified to make a call. People are... slow... at the best of times. Add in pain, and they were just downright unreasonable.

"Because at the end of the day... whether you graduate with a 50% or a 100%, you are all doctors in the eyes of the patients. They are never going to ask what your grades were, only where you graduated from."

What can I say? She was right.