It is now three and a half years since I joined college. That's 43 months. Or 1315 days. Considering the fact that I am supposed to be "working" as an intern in another year, I somehow thought I would feel a little less dumb by now. I dont know what gave me such a ridiculous idea.
The last few days involved a bunch of random people whom we've never met before, asking us things that they knew we didnt know, while being visibly entertained in the process. These people are what we call external examiners. They are a kind of sub-species of the human race who delight in the sorrow and misery of others. Much like demontors, but in real life.
One of them kept mumbling something that I presume was English, but I cant say for sure. The only clear thing I heard him say to me was "You can go". Another one kept setting us random tasks, one of which was a make-shift ex-tempo acting assessment, in tamil. While I think my excellent command over the language held up quite well initially, it may have started to crumble when I told my fictional patient (translating literally) "your cochlea broke". And by the time I had got to explaining what lip-reading was, the smile on the examiner's face was so wide, I decided it was time to wind up.
And as if the externals werent bad enough, the patients that I was allotted had equally strange personalities. One mentioned quite casually that she was electrocuted 6 months ago, but she was too busy hoarding biscuits to answer any of my other questions properly. One thought I was a proper doctor and started telling me all of his life's problems. In the interest of transparency I told him that I was a third year having a final exam. He became surprisingly quiet after that. I wonder why. I proceeded to write down a previously memorised diet for him, while his son watched me fill up my paper. He apparently works at Kalaignar TV, so it is possible that I might be in the news some time.
Either way, I am finally a final year. Or third year part 2, if we're going to get technical. After a year that included "field visits" (which meant knocking on people's houses at 2.00 in the afternoon to measure the sizes of their rooms and to look inside their bathrooms), and had enough drama to take a new TV serial through at least two seasons, final year cant possibly be that bad.
I hope.
The last few days involved a bunch of random people whom we've never met before, asking us things that they knew we didnt know, while being visibly entertained in the process. These people are what we call external examiners. They are a kind of sub-species of the human race who delight in the sorrow and misery of others. Much like demontors, but in real life.
One of them kept mumbling something that I presume was English, but I cant say for sure. The only clear thing I heard him say to me was "You can go". Another one kept setting us random tasks, one of which was a make-shift ex-tempo acting assessment, in tamil. While I think my excellent command over the language held up quite well initially, it may have started to crumble when I told my fictional patient (translating literally) "your cochlea broke". And by the time I had got to explaining what lip-reading was, the smile on the examiner's face was so wide, I decided it was time to wind up.
And as if the externals werent bad enough, the patients that I was allotted had equally strange personalities. One mentioned quite casually that she was electrocuted 6 months ago, but she was too busy hoarding biscuits to answer any of my other questions properly. One thought I was a proper doctor and started telling me all of his life's problems. In the interest of transparency I told him that I was a third year having a final exam. He became surprisingly quiet after that. I wonder why. I proceeded to write down a previously memorised diet for him, while his son watched me fill up my paper. He apparently works at Kalaignar TV, so it is possible that I might be in the news some time.
Either way, I am finally a final year. Or third year part 2, if we're going to get technical. After a year that included "field visits" (which meant knocking on people's houses at 2.00 in the afternoon to measure the sizes of their rooms and to look inside their bathrooms), and had enough drama to take a new TV serial through at least two seasons, final year cant possibly be that bad.
I hope.
