The Shy Medic

The tweet read: “don’t let anyone motivate you otherwise. Medical school is hard”! I couldn’t agree more. Except that I wished I had seen the tweet 6 years ago, maybe I would already be working as a journalist or lawyer or any of the three things I wanted to become when I was 14.   Unlike the familiar stories you’ll hear in medical school, medicine wasn’t a childhood dream for me. It was not even a choice until the last minute. Heads up: This is a four-page MS Word document. It's a mid attempt to condense my six-year medical school experience into understandable words. So grab a seat and some food, and let's get this party started! Myth #1: You have to love Science to be a doctor   I can confidently tell you that my best subject all through my six years as a high schooler was the English language. I still believe it is. I like Literature as well. I love words and how writers weave them, and I found these miles more interesting than Punnett's square in my Biology textbook. W...

What began as an uncertain thought ended with hopes of extending my two-month stay in Poland had I not had other commitments. As might be expected, one of the foremost motivating factors for applying for another Erasmus program is the positive experience I had in Szeged two years ago. I loved every bit of it and even  documented my experience .  Choosing Poland as my Erasmus destination- like many of the life-changing decisions I’ve made- wasn’t my first option for this year’s Erasmus program. Hi, Ms Rona! But I don’t get to complain. Neither was choosing Poznań, too. Just like the rest of the world was plunged into scepticism by the COVID-19 pandemic, the world of Erasmus was fraught with uncertainty- from deferred applications to cancelled agreements- the program was bound to go through its own shaky times. However, as the world is gradually learning to live with the virus- following sacrifices made by healthcare professionals and frontline workers- we, as students, learned ...

THE ARRIVAL It was a near-horrible first day in Budapest. The elevators didn't work. I met nice people, but my 18kg-bag didn't seem to help.  The transit from Ferihegy railway station to Szeged was a hot and damp 2-hour journey. It took about 5 minutes to finally cramp myself between three other adults in one of the claustrophobic coaches. I landed my sweaty body on a seat that had housed more than a thousand sweaty skins as mine. It felt good to finally sit. So I'm now in Szeged, and first things first, it felt like no one lived in the city. It had an eerie vibe. The tram stop just by the station had only three senior citizens waiting apart from the passengers that had just arrived. Maybe something was not right; but I read on about seven different blogs that Szeged was the last stop, so I couldn't have been in the wrong place. I convinced myself to be calm. After one stop, I saw the light. It was simple. Beautiful. Simply beautiful. I love the medie...