First off, I'd like to say: you can do this. As a pre-med student, I can testify to the wavering confidence that comes with this career path.
Not too many people are telling us that we can do it.
Everyone likes to express how difficult and rigorous medical school is. They repeat the countless shadowing, volunteer, and community service hours that we should have started freshman year. Not to mention the 4.0 GPA we should be maintaining. In my experience, nobody has told me that I can do it (well nobody at a professional level, of course my family believes in me).
You can do whatever you put your mind to. Never forget your worth.
The reason that I am writing this is to shine a light on something that recently happened to me. Four days ago I went into an Urgent Care with a deep splinter that I had acquired from a wooden platform earlier that morning. I had tried to remove it myself, so there was a little cut near what I had perceived as the entry point. When I showed it to the doctor she was skeptical. I showed her the spot where I could feel the splinter, and she told me that it was just swelling from "the trauma of me irritating the area". Ultimately she gave me a tetanus shot and antibiotics to prevent infection. She also instructed me to soak with a warm rag and soap until it "surfaced on its own".
So I followed her instruction; she is the one with a medical degree after all.
Yesterday I took a good look at the area (which still hurt to the touch). I decided to give removal another shot. This time I felt the splinter hit my nerve, which was validating. At one point, I even caught a glimpse of it, but I lost sight shortly after.
Today I made an appointment with Student Health Services on campus. The doctor and I decided on following through with a procedure: removal of a foreign body (this is exactly what I had wanted Urgent Care to do). The doctor numbed the area with lidocaine (ouch) and made a small incision. She dug around in the wound for a while. Nothing. She could not find it. I remained strong with my belief that something massive was under my skin. Just before she was about to call it quits, I convinced her to feel around and try again. The next thing I heard her say was, "I got it".
She removed a 1.5cm splinter from my thigh, and it was so deep that she almost overlooked it.
So why am I telling you about my incredibly large splinter?
The removal of that splinter was more than just satisfying, it was validating. I had so many people who did not believe that I had a splinter. It made me feel isolated, and my confidence definitely waivered.
Isolation is something I never want to do to my future patients.
When a patient is expressing concern for themselves, listen. Never assume they are lying. Give them a chance. Be on their side. Do everything you can to put them at ease.
Most importantly, believe in them, because you never know just how much they need you to.
