I asked myself how it could possibly be more challenging than the jungle.
There, I lived with a family of cockroaches and a fear of electrocution. They said the shower was safe, but the electrical wires surrounding the shower head told me that dying was a distinct possibility.
At least…I would die clean.
I told myself that if I could put up with Ecuador, then anesthesia school would be a breeze.
I quit writing about Ecuador for the same reason I don’t write about school – It’s hard to see the computer screen when you’re bawling . Not to mention, I had an even better chance at getting electrocuted when the motherboard of my computer filled up with tears.
Although, the worst is over, I do still harbor occasional thoughts of throwing a curare dart at some of the CRNA’s with whom I work. But now, I have some perspective. I can look at the new students and say, “Wow- that was pretty awful.”
I get it.
There is no better way to raise the price of their stock in anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, and anti-hypertensive medications than for the CRNA’s and anesthesiologists to terrorize new students.
One thing I have learned in school is instead of crying in a bathroom stall, I should just write a blog post. That, or reach in my pocket and pull out one of those Ecuadorian darts I’ve been saving.
I can look back and see that maybe it wasn’t so awful losing a quarter of my hair due to stress…it does accelerate my blow drying time. And all those missed happy hours? My liver has had a nice break and I’ve turned into a cheap date.
Cheaper, at least.
Breaking down the numbers gives you a little better idea of what the past 17 months have been like.
- Number of times I wanted to quit school: equals number of times my alarm has gone off for any school related activity
- Number of times I really, truly, genuinely, honestly, actually, seriously considered quitting school: 4
- Number of times I’ve been yelled at: I can’t count that high
- Number of times I’ve been yelled at and called a liar: 1
- Number of times I’ve told my husband I miss him: 39,593
- Percentage of students in my class that started some sort of anti-depressant, anxiety or blood pressure med: 33%
- Number of times I’ve hidden in the bathroom and cried: 3
- Number of times I’ve been physically pushed out of the way: 1
- Number of times my husband has said he wished I never went to school: 1,892
- Number of gray hair I’ve grown since the start: 6
- Number of times I’ve hidden in corners/closets/stairways/bathrooms so as not to run into certain people: 84.3
- Number of good friends and family weddings I’ve had to miss: 3
- Number of times I’ve been called lazy and unmotivated for taking an hour long lunch: 1
- Number of times I’ve barely had time to eat at all because I’m so busy: innumerable
- Number of wrinkles that have appeared on my forehead: 4
- Number of times I’ve been insulted by instructor due to my being in the Army: 1
One of the girls in my class had breast cancer. I asked her if she had to pick cancer or anesthesia school to experience again, which she would choose.
She paused and said, “Ooohh, that’s a tough one. I think I’d pick cancer.”
Pretty much sums it up.
And as for the whole jungle versus anesthesia competition? I was way off.
Yep, I was wrong.
Anesthesia school is way worse than the jungle.
And apparently cancer too.
I know if any of my fellow anesthesia-peeps are reading this, they’re saying, “but wait! you forgot about this or that!” So please tell- What did I miss??