Top 10 List: Gimmicks Pre-Meds Use to Stand Out

After a few years in the game you start to hear more and more stories of what to do and what not to do.

In case you're having trouble deciding which of the following strategies to adopt (or regret not adopting), I've conveniently ranked each gimmick with a patented, easy-to-understand ranking system (in lieu of the customary "top 10" ranking).

• Submitting cookies with their application
  They better be peanut-free.
  Rating: 3 dozen batches of shame out of 12.
  
  
• Submitting their application on scented paper
  Are you kidding me?!
  Rating: 2 garage-sale antique perfume bottles with the little puffer balls (atomizers, I think they were called) out of 29.
  
  
• Showing up 15 minutes late for the interview, while the interviewer waits for them to show up.
  I actually saw this happen, and I heard the interviewer ask, "Why were you late?" The response? "Oh, I thought my interview was at 11:45." I can't decide whether this applicant was extremely honourable for being honest or extremely stupid for not at least making up a better excuse.
  Rating: 4 white lies out of 11.
  
  
• Drawing a cartoon of Mickey Mouse instead of writing an application essay.
  Even worse: Labeling your cartoon "This is what I think of the admissions process."
  Rating: 99 spots on the Hollywood Walk of Lame out of 100 (because this is a true story).
  
  
• Answering the "Why do you want to be a doctor?" interview question with a one-sentence response.
  These are the kinds of people that a) have limited common sense and b) the interviews are designed to weed out.
  Rating: 56 times having to listen to "Because I Like Science and Helping People" as the lyrics of a polka song, out of 941.
  
  
• Not following simple directions regarding the application, resulting in their first and last name ending up in the "First Name" box.
  Pathetic, though unintentional, I assume.
  Rating: 65 misread directions out of 143.
  
  
• Including a spelling error in the first sentence of my application essay
  Uh... oops.... well, it got me an interview...
  Rating: 10 honest mistakes out of 10.
  
  
• Writing their admissions essay from the perspective of the applicant's pencil.
  Not a bad idea. I wish I thought of it.
  Rating: 49 well-deserved spots in medical school out of 50.
  
  
• Wearing a The Simpsons tie to their interview.
  I saw this one done by a guy who interviewed at the same time I did last year.
  He's not in my class.
  Rating: 1 desperate, unsuccessful plea for attention out of 64.
  
  
• Showing up at the admissions office wearing a Tarzan leopard-skin outfit and singing Portuguese love songs to the dean
  I don't think this one has been attempted yet, so give me credit for the idea if you use it. I guarantee you will stand out.
  Rating: Negative 16 rock-bottom shameless sells out of 612.
  

This list came about after a conversation with my school's director of admissions as we were killing time and chatting up a storm during interview weekend (I was helping out). She told me that giving gifts to the admissions office simply doesn't work. First of all, the dean of admissions doesn't dictate who gets in and who doesn't; it's a committee decision, based on the accreditation policy. Secondly, gifts aren't accepted by the department; they're either given away, or in the case of larger gifts, sent back.

My advice? Instead of using a gimmick, try being a great person with a stellar personality. But hopefully you didn't need to hear that if you're indeed applying to medicine.

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Vitum Medicinus: An epic announcement...

It's a turning point in the history of Vitum Medicinus.

Update your links!

Vitum Medicinus now has its own place on the web!

The URL for Vitum Medicinus has now changed to:

http://www.VitumMedicinus.com

E-mail can now be directed to vitum at VitumMedicinus dot com.

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Premedasaurus extinctus

When I started my undergrad, I wanted to become a doctor, so I simply signed up for the "pre-med" major at my university. I didn't realize that I was jumping on to the last glimmers of a dying wave.

Musings of a Dinosaur is hosting Grand Rounds v3.23, and in an attempt to fit with the theme and thus get listed, I'm writing about the one thing that, this early in my medical career, I know about which has gone the way of the dinosaur: the "pre-med" degree.

Most "pre-med" students are aware that "pre-med" degrees don't actually exist anymore. My degree program wasn't even technically that; it was a B.Sc. in Biology, Pre-Med stream, or simply a collection of courses in and extraneous to the Biology degree requirements which happened to be common prerequisites for medical school. As a matter of fact, it was discontinued in my second year or so, leaving me slightly embarrassed and feeling without compass or sense of direc.... no, actually, I didn't really even notice.

That didn't keep me from shamelessly using "I'm in Pre-Med" to try and pick up members of the female gender. Surprisingly, this was so unsuccessful that I abandoned it in favour of pursuing getting struck by lighting while holding a winning lottery ticket and getting mugged by Chuck Norris at the same time. I figured my chances were better for the latter, and hey, who needs a girlfriend when they can say they were mugged by Chuck Norris, anyways?

In actual fact, I soon lost all enjoyment in introducing myself as a "pre-med." I found that common responses to this declaration were:

• "Oh, so you're going to be a doctor?"
• "You must be smart!"
• [pointing and shouting] "Hey, look, Mom, a nerd!"

These were combined with that which anybody in pre-med has had to deal with... the one thing that dominates every action you as a pre-med do: the thought of "getting in." Almost every pre-med wonders about everything they do, "Will this help me get in?" (ie. regarding a summer job) or worse, "Oh no, will I still be able to get in now?" (ie. regarding getting busted for what you thought was a harmless prank and then finding out that your high school's administration has less of a sense of humour than you first expected... uh, fictional situation, of course). It ends up being in the back of your mind all the time and soon gets pretty annoying.

Take that and add a bit of humility (ok, fine, insecurity), a bit more not wanting to let down people who thought you were smart, and a a lot of realistic awareness regarding the admissions process and the brutal odds that are involved, and you soon find that you'd much rather not tell people that you're 'pre-med.' By my second year of undergrad I told everyone that I was taking a Biology major. I hadn't even realized that by this time my university had pretty much phased out the 'Pre-Med' stream.

Clearly, though, Vitum avoiding the term 'Pre-Med' didn't drive it into extinction. So why isn't it offered any more, and what's the alternative now? Well, I'll take this opportunity to answer a question from Carrot Juice, who took the time to get in touch with me via e-mail and ask for advice about applying for medicine. I'll start here and continue to address this question in a few other posts.

Med schools are more and more in favour of diversity these days. People with diverse backgrounds make a better medical school class, so the story goes. This, in fact, is the driving factor behind allowing 43-year-olds to begin medical school, something which a lot of people are a little confused about because after all, there's a good chance they won't have many years to practice after they graduate. So now you can have a math major who becomes a surgeon, or a economist who becomes a general practitioner. Our class has engineers, a nurse, a paramedic, a school teacher, an Olympic athlete, an entrepreneur, a city councillor; we've also got PhDs alongside students who didn't even finish undergrad. In fact, the first semester of our curriculum is in a sense a compressed physiology undergrad degree, to catch up everyone to the same science level despite their diverse backgrounds.

Thus, no longer can you get through with your basic 'pre-med' combo of biology, biochem, organic chem and expect to be an A-1 applicant. Nowadays it's all about standing out. What else would you expect, though? With Canadian med school acceptance odds of something like 1 in 11, that's what has to be your focus; making your admissions essay, your interview, your application stand out from the other 1000-3000 applicants (depending on where you apply).

It's all about diversity; being one more 'pre-med' in a pile of 3000 'pre-meds' doesn't cut it anymore. And so, as can be expected, the 'pre-med' degree ended up where most of those bland, un-unique applications end up: in the 'gone forever' pile.

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Talking with an autistic person... who can't speak

How can an autistic person be described as "brilliant" and having "a great sense of humour" if they can't even put together sounds that resemble words, let alone use language?!

"I find it very interesting that failure to learn your language is seen as a defecit, while failure to learn my language is seen as natural," says Amanda Baggs, a 26-year old woman with autism, with the aid of a computer keyboard and a voice modulator. "The thinking of people like me is only taken seriously if we learn your language."

Amanda has a language and way of seeing the world that is entirely her own. Watching the videos and reading Amanda's story on CNN's website has entirely fascinated me, blown me away, and forever changed the way I view people with autism. Click on the video link, "Watch Amanda communicate in her own way."

I value my abilities to communicate and think rationally so highly that I figure being in a situation like this would torment me. Similarly, I have an insecurity as well as a tendency to avoid people with autism based upon my ignorance and limited interactions with autistic persons. I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way, but I'll admit that I do...albeit ashamedly.

I guess the biggest surprise for me was, "Wow, just because she can't speak our language, doesn't mean she can't understand it." The interviewer was asking her questions in perfectly normal English and she was processing and answering them as quickly as any 'normal' person would. Again, I haven't really ever been 'taught' or learned how to interact with autistic people, so this was a new thing for me; but I now know not to 'talk down to' a person with autism, or to speak to them as if they think 'slower' than I do.

Watching these videos and reading the article have helped me realize that my insecurity is entirely unfounded. Just because someone isn't capable of speaking to me, it doesn't mean there's something wrong with them or they're anything less than me.

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Heart in my Hands for Valentine's... literally...

This week we studied congenital heart defects. For our case-based learning assignments, we were to look up heart murmurs and congenital heart defects. "That's easy," I thought. "Murmurs... whatever, there's probably 1 or 2 types, and congenital defects, I've heard about that before. Hole in the heart. Good as done."

I was in for a surprise.

The list I ended up with had over twenty separate congenital heart defects that presented with murmurs. Apparently anything and everything about them can go wrong; thickening of the blood vessels (aorta, pulmonary artery); hole in the atrial septum; hole in the ventricular septum; valve issues; the vessels get switched around; portions get enlarged; or combinations of the above. The list goes on. It turned out to be one of those things that you think you understand, but never really put much thought into, and then you realize there's way more to it than you ever imagined.

I ended up feeling like I learned a whole lot just from lecture this week (a rare feeling; usually I have to sit down and start going over stuff myself). After our five or so weeks of microbiology, infections diseases and the like, a block that was poorly organized and not so motivating, it's nice to finally feel like we're learning something applicable and medical (I think I've said that a couple times over the year but it's getting better and better).

The climax of the week ended up on Friday afternoon. Everyone was bitter because up until now we'd had Friday afternoons off, so nobody was impressed that we had to go across town to the teaching hospital to do a pathology 'lab' in the small group rooms there. While there was a bit of variability in the groups (and 3 of the groups had tutors who were on call and thus did not show up), it turned out it was actually really interesting. Each group was given six pathological specimens of human hearts taken from infants that had died in their first few weeks of life (aww, yea it was a bit sad but babies do die and I suppose this is a way that they can help others in a huge way even though nobody was able to help them). Each heart had a congenital defect, and given the specimen we donned gloves and went through the chambers of the heart looking for it.

For me, it was neat enough to be given specimens in formalin in glass jars and being allowed to actually handle them. Most times when you see things in glass jars they're not to be touched. I felt special.

Besides that though, which I'm not entirely sure I should've admitted, it was really neat being able to investigate and problem-solve in a way that was applicable and solidified the content we'd learned that week. Being a visual learner, as well, seeing the defects in front of me, and being able to put in a probe into the vessels to see where it came out made a lot more sense for me than the description we'd had in lecture.

For those who are as nerdy as I am, here's a bit more. We had one specimen that displayed a congenital defect called Transposition of the Great Vessels, where the major vessel leading from the heart to the body (the aorta) is switched with the major vessel to the lungs (you might remember that the left of the heart pumps the blood to the body and the right side pumps it to the lungs). I figured the best way to repair this surgically would be to switch these vessels; but supposedly that's too tough when the hearts are small, so instead they do a Mustard procedure, where they put in a baffle, a piece of synthetic material that switches the inputs of the heart rather than the outputs. That way these people's hearts end up backwards; the right side pumps blood to the body, and vice versa. It was interesting to see how this little heart had compensated for the change; instead of the left ventricular wall being thick and muscular, the right side had this morphology. Fascinating. Seeing these hearts with surgical repairs and synthetic materials sutured in definitely gave us an appreciation for the minute surgical procedures that are involved in fetal surgery, and for the remarkable way in which surgical interventions can be a lot like rewiring a car engine.

It was all kindof solidified when a lecturer did something that doesn't happen often enough in our classes. The prof brought in a former patient who was born with transposition of the great vessels, and who had had the mustard procedure done when he was a kid, and interviewed him in front of the class. Other than shortness of breath for a few days if he exerts himself too much, he lives a normal life and owns a successful company and has a few kids. Nice to see a human face rather than just being lectured about a condition.

I'm still in awe at how much they're teaching us, and it seems like every week I find out a whole other pile of things that doctors know that I'll have to learn as well. What I thought was just one possibility for heart defects quickly turned into 20+, each with a different pathophysiology, set of signs and symptoms, treatment and prognosis. Not only am I learning medicine, I'm learning a lot about medicine, and how much there is to know, and that it doesn't necessarily line up with what my expectations were in every way. Fortunately, though, finding this out is more exciting for me than anything. So far.

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