Resting station

Woke up with a dry mouth, throbbing positional headache and faint nausea. And then it hit me:
No stress.
Even the pounding in my head couldn’t take away from the feeling of post-exam-freedom. End of the year post-exam-freedom. End of pre-clinical-years-post-exam-freedom. Free-fucking-dom.

I spent four hours making a cake for my niece because I can do that kind of shit now. I’m on a resting station until early January.

A resting station in exam terms is the seat that you get to sit on thanks to some gracious examiner who decided people would perform better in exams if given a little bit of time out. Our anatomy exams have rest stations every two or three specimens. A little seat with a picture of Monets, van Goghs, or my favourite, “The Scream”. Its really hard to sit at a rest station without laughing at people. We are in ridiculous predicament. The buzzer is buzzing every 90 seconds. We are scratching our heads, moving our legs to myotome dances and pulling “wtf” faces.

The OSCEs are not much better. We get kind of delirious after one and a half hours of anatomy and then the prospect of 3.5hrs of OSCEs. The seven minute resting stations are spent trying not to laugh at each other. Which then makes us laugh.


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