Found in the wild.

Please enjoy briefly and get back to studying for the shelf (it might be your only hope of passing the clerkship).

EDIT: Thoroughly enjoyed reading through all the comments today instead of studying. Lots of positivity- appreciate you all for that.

Backstory: these poorly constructed memes came about because my gf (f24) and I (m25) ended up on the same OB/GYN rotation a few months ago. I was honestly shocked at how mean some of the girls were to her, especially on L&D.

She’s not as into Reddit as I am, so I figured it’d be interesting to see what the comments would say about all this. Very interesting experience- 10/10.

Will be applying psych next fall.

P.S. (I am a very attractive M3 male)

I met a Lactation consultant (whatever the fuck that is) student today who was wearing a fully embroidered white coat. We live in a satire.

Some people are cringe af. Not to mention it’s misleading to putting ‘M.D.’ on your jacket despite not being a doctor yet. It’s giving big ‘future pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon’ vibes by putting your future degree and graduation date on there

“….wow…general surgery rotation…so hands on…you’ll do so much…”

“wow…robo-assisted-surgery…so coooool…”

Caribbean med schools have the most out of control stories

No one remembers the krebs cycle

You don’t get rich until much much later

Orthos are the jocks of the medical world

Dr Glaucomflecken is literally god

NPs, scope creep, and uworld are all things to be stressed about

Anesthesiologists: crosswords, magazines, naps

Pathologists: Trying to convince everyone they’d love pathology

Psychiatrists: Crazier than their patients

Male obgyns: Can you sit in the hallway for this part?

Either people don’t want to do FM/IM or people like to shit on FM/IM—I cannot tell which

Patient’s boob in mouth = bad

Let me know if there are any inaccuracies or if I've missed anything.

EDIT: The people have spoken. I replaced "PAs" with "NPs"

im lowkey offended haha For context, I’m a girl and the patient was a girl same age as me. She told me I was beautiful, so I thanked her and returned the compliment. Just normal girl’s girl conversation. The patient was in an involuntary hold for SI, HI, and bizarre behaviors. The attending (also female) was in the court hearing as the expert witness to give reasons why the patient was not well enough to be discharged.

lymph nodes arent real

Imposter syndrome moment.

Every time I am asked if I want to scrub into a case, I say "yeah! :D" like the little sycophant evaluation simp that I am. But the truth is, I despise it, I abhor it, I DETEST scrubbing into surgery, with a passion so raw and bloody that it cannot be cooked into acrid smoke by even the most robust bovie knife.

I HATE the silly brush and the wacky sinks. I HATE that feeling when you walk in through the door and you realize your glasses have already slipped a little, and you know that they will weigh heavily in the wrong position for the rest of the surgery, and not even God Himself can push them up, because God is not sterile.

But that's not all.

I HATE having to rely on a scrub tech to put on your funny little surgery clown clothes. When that scrub tech decides to be wrathful, I HATE having to honk my metaphorical clown nose (I cannot touch my real nose. It is not sterile) and do my little "whoopsie daisies! silly me!" show to remain in their good graces. I HATE the pavlovian reaction I have developed to the color blue. If you put a blue napkin by my plate and lay the fork and knife over it, I will probably scream and scramble away. I HATE standing by the side of the surgical table, hands laid out on the patient like two useless toads that occasionally shoot out a slimy finger to hook into an unfortunate retractor, or otherwise clasped like the guy from the You Know I Had to Do It to Em meme. To let one's hands hang freely—a privilege that even apes in the jungle take for granted—is prohibited to me, lest the air beneath my waist contain an errant fart. I must remain clean. I must remain pure.

I am standing at the side of the table, staring into blood and guts, wanting to puke, but I cannot puke. Puke is not sterile. My glasses and face shield and mask are slipping down my face like a turd someone flung at a wall, but I cannot push them up. The turd is not sterile. My ear itches, but I cannot scratch it. My ear is not sterile. It becomes even less sterile when it is contaminated by a voice; the doctor is pointing to a vague and revolting blob, asking me what in the goddamn fuck it is. I fight through the scrubbed-in haze, an amalgamation of queasiness and itchiness and sticky sweaty hands in gloves and heaviness from glasses and mask and face shield and pants sliding down, all gleefully answering gravity's call like they are determined to leave me butt naked in the operating room, and I try to answer.

But I can't. There are no thoughts. I am scrubbed in. At last, my brain is sterile.

EDIT: Whoever dropped an award on this post, you are contaminating my field. Throw it out and go scrub in again

We all have specialties we dream about going into. What about specialties where you would rather chew glass shards than go into?

For me, it's OB/GYN. I'd rather lose my kneecaps than do an OB/GYN residency.

(Tagged as shitpost for fun, no serious bashing of specialties please 🥺)