Every semester comes with at least one hurdle. You don't really start your holiday until it's over.
One of ours is called Tooth Conservation. Imagine drilling a tiny cavity between two teeth while making sure you never touch the healthy tooth beside it. One accidental scratch counts as a critical error.
Every single time, my hands decide this is the perfect moment to tremble, which, unsurprisingly, does not improve precision. It feels a bit like being told, "Whatever you do, don't think about pink elephants." Naturally, all I can think about is the neighbouring tooth.
Then there's the end-of-semester OSCE hurdle. Four major sessions: radiography, periodontology, paediatric dentistry, and Tooth Conservation. Practical stations, MCQs, short answers, and vivas, all carefully designed to discover exactly what you forgot to revise.
One critical error, and you get another chance to become very familiar with the assessment rubric.
I'm unusually sensitive to details, so after almost every hurdle, I'm convinced I've failed something. Somehow, I never have.
The hardest OSCE even came back with an 85%, which confused me almost as much as it pleased me.
Sometimes I think the standards are impossibly high.
Then I remember we're not being trained to pass exams. We're being trained to treat people.
In my first year, I assisted a clinician giving a local anaesthetic. I glanced over and noticed something unexpected.
The clinician's hand was trembling.
A second later, I looked at the patient.
The patient was trembling too.
It occurred to me that if we're not the ones feeling the pressure now, one day our patients might be.
I'd much rather the nervous one be the student than the patient.