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The First Week of Classes

Have you ever had that nightmare where you show up for a test you haven’t studied for? Imagine that, only you’re also naked, your desk is made of tarantulas, and the instructors are speaking in Dothraki. That’s what I felt like the first few days of tech school. Despite constant reassurance from the teachers that we’d all be speaking fluent medical-ese in no time, I constantly stressed about the alien terminology peppering our lectures.

I bought a medical dictionary and brought it to class thinking, “I’ll just look up words I don’t know as she talks.” This was a huge mistake. When you don’t understand every third word out of the instructor’s mouth, trying to look them up and put them into context while still listening to the lecture is impossible. What I ended up doing was writing down the words, looking them up after class and hoping the definition stuck until lecture came around again. This tactic was debatably successful.

How I must have looked during lectures

I spent a lot of time silently nodding. You know, the “Oh yeah, I totally understand everything you’re saying” nod. I had perfected my nodding technique years ago during a business course about revenue streams…or expenditure management? Whatever, it was something business-y. (Frankly, it all sounded like “Blah, blah, blah.”) Many of my classmates nodded right along with me. Others stared blankly at the board, hoping it would lead to some level of comprehension. A few students in our class had previous medical experience. They fared better than I those first few weeks.

While the terminology threw me for a loop, it was not the only unfamiliar element in this brave new world of surgical technology. Lab time also took a little getting used to. First off, we were required to wear scrubs for lab. I’d never worn scrubs before, but one day in them and I was totally on-board. I loved being able to hop out of bed, throw my hair up, and pull on some pajama-comfy scrubs. No muss, no fuss!

We also learned the basics of holding surgical instruments. I was dismayed to learn that I could not for the life of me get a ringed instrument open with my left-hand. This was brought to light when we did a relay race game with each person performing “simple” tasks: separating M&Ms by color with a Debakey, stringing beads with a needle driver, and transferring tiny beads to a jar with a Kelly. My spot was in the middle of our team and when my turn came, I got to the task with the clamp and failed miserably in front of everyone. Afterward, the instructor gave me a Kelly to practice with. For weeks, I carried it around in my left hand. During class, the constant clicking of open, shut, open, shut became an accepted accompaniment to lectures. My husband patiently endured the relentless clicking at home. I’m sure it was all very Tell-Tale Heart-like for him at some point. It’s a wonder I never woke up to find my clamp “mysteriously missing.” (The man is a saint.)

All things considered, you’d think my first week of tech school would have sent me screaming for the hills. Somehow this was not the case. After the initial terror wore off, I started to look forward to my classes. I was still scared, but it was the type of scared you’d feel zip-lining over a jungle canopy or standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon. It was exhilarating and fun and stressful all at the same time and I loved every minute of it.

Until next time, stay sterile.


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