'And then I heard the dreaded words, “Is there a doctor on this plane?”, and it was a plane, so clearly, I couldn’t run.'

This took far, far too much hassle to set up.

I've attempted to blog before, at least three times, but this time, I am going to STICK TO IT. Hopefully.

It took me about six hours to come up with a name, and then half that to decide on a blogging platform. Ended up returning to blogspot, as that's what I used before.

So, I figured the best way to start this would be to talk about the Lancet rejecting me.

Oh, I don’t mean a paper, of course not. Aside from my dissertation, I have done no other research (as of yet. Obviously).

No, I mean them rejecting my application to be one of five regular student bloggers for the next twelve months. It was an e-mail designed to comfort, I think, but being generic, it didn’t really do that as much as leave me with an ‘Oh? Is that it?’ feeling. Which is fine, really. But what I guess I wanted to share was the tips they gave for being a good blogger:

1. 'Blogs need to be snappy and informal, and above all, personal. They require a strong individual voice.'
2. 'Keep it simple. Short sentences and clear prose go a long way on the net.'
3. 'Always bear in mind who your audience is: in this case, your fellow students. Ask a few trusted friends for honest feedback on your writing.'

This would be fine, except for the fact that I definitely followed the second two, and I thought that I followed the first, but apparently my ‘strong individual voice’ is not as individual as other people’s, or maybe, it’s not anything pertaining to the three tips they’ve sent everyone, and it’s the fact I kind of insinuated that I was a bit of a reluctant medic.

Hmmm. I’m not devastated, you understand, but obviously it would be nice to know if that was the reason – however as is always the way, they ‘will not be able to engage further on an individual basis’ or something of that nature.

Here, why don't I share what I shared with them in one of my sample entries?

‘And then I heard the dreaded words, “Is there a doctor on this plane?”, and it was a plane, so clearly, I couldn’t run.”

...this basically happened to my friend the other day. Yeah, she's technically a medical student and not a doctor, but if there HADN'T been a doctor on the plane (luckily there were two), then she'd actually have been the next best thing, as a fourth year medical student.

THIS IS VERY, VERY FRIGHTENING.

Yes, it's the penultimate year and we'll officially be practising doctors in not very long at all. Something spectacular is going to have to happen in that space of time, seriously. Although looking at the current F1s, that trained where we trained, apparently something spectacular DOES happen in said space of time. There is no other way to explain the incredible amount of information they seem to hold within their brains.

Then again, they’re actually doing the job, day in and day out. So perhaps it’s not really that astonishing. However, I do think that revising for finals is probably the period during which ‘The FEAR’ (a concept I’m sure many will be familiar with) hits never-before-experienced heights, and it is this which enables so many panicked almost-doctors cross the threshold into the world where we begin to receive paycheques for our efforts.

Back to the whole plane dilemma. There is no detracting from how scary the situation might have been had she been the only medical professional on board, but clearly she would have been obliged to do something (or forever live with the guilt). Actually, on one of our first days at medical school we were informed that at least two of us would go on to save a life whilst still eager young students (or not-so-young, if we include our dear Graduate Entry colleagues), or something like that.

I suppose if it had been me, I would have gone with the standard ‘ABC’ (airway, breathing, circulation, etcetera...I can never remember what the ‘d’ stands for...I think it’s ‘disability’) approach, taken a history if they were able to give one, and hoped for the best.

Oh, the phrase ‘hoped for the best’. I’ll bet that kind of summarises quite a few experiences newly appointed juniors must have on the wards, to be honest. Hey, experience is the best teacher, right? So I’m sure we’ll all get there in the end.