The Path to Medicine.

Ever since I was young, I found satisfaction in helping those around me, at whatever cost. The only problem I had as I progressed into adult life, is that people kept thinking I had a hidden agenda. My help was regarded as atypical and beyond the societal norm. So people, especially those of the opposite gender, started believing that I was going to ask for something in return or ask for a relationship in return for help. These thoughts always disgusted me because I just wanted to help.

The only way I could validate my help without expectation of returns in any manner or form was to study medicine. That's also another way of saying that I'm terrible with business, economics and any form of commerce except starting a savings account with some sort of interest rate that gives me returns enough to call someone who cares. Hah!

My lack of business or exploitable behaviour meant that medicine was the right choice. I could practice without having to worry about currency transactions before, during or after a consultation. Thank God this is the case in Australia - we are very lucky to live in such a beautiful country despite everything we complain about.

Medicine it was - from the age of 5, I was sure. As time flew by, my interest in topics of science, namely physics and the language of which it is spoken: mathematics had taken-off. I am a person that is easily influenced by movies and I quickly develop role models based on my deficiencies and qualities I envy in these movie characters. One of these movies, introduced to me in year 12 was A Beautiful Mind. At that time I was studying 4 unit mathematics; the largest challenge that life threw at me at that time. At my high school, one could only attempt it by invitation and I was happy to have received one out of sixteen. I was one of four wogs in a class-room of Asians, the majority of which English was a second language.

Back then, at the beginning of year 12, I was dating a Russian girl and at that time, she was the girl of my dreams. I was obsessed and couldn't get enough of her. The problem was that she had spent her summer holidays in Russia with her family and we couldn't really speak that much. When she got back and we saw each other; two weeks later it was clear that she was dating someone else at the same time and I was devastated. I cried my eyes out when she broke up with me that day and so much that my father also cried.

My family wasn't really pro-advice. When I opened up to my parents, the answers would be quick and responsive, as if to say "you should've thought of this long before you spoke to me." The worst of it was when their responses were so hasty that it felt dismissive and to me, I still believe that it was. Unfortunately that's one of my weaknesses now: I usually blurt out quick solutions without thinking about the ramifications of my suggestions.

So I would study mathematics whole-heartedly because I could get lost in the symbology that represented so much. A few short lines was packed with information that would take quite a bit of time explaining in English. A Beautiful Mind really helped me appreciate it as well.

Half way through year 12 was the first time I considered medicine seriously because I never thought I was cut out for it despite my passion to serve. I applied to UNSW, which required us to sit the UMAT, a pathetic test that was worth less than the paper it was printed on and also an interview, which I didn't make. So I had officially given up on studying medicine and reminded myself that I could serve others in healthcare without the title of doctor. The title never mattered, it was simply my opinion that in order to serve, one had to study medicine and become a doctor in society's perspective to be entrusted with the responsibility of care. Since my mother was a nurse in Turkey, she made me appreciate their importance well. I started thinking about that for a whole 2-3 hours until she talked me out of it. "You're not good with shit, blood or vomit." She was right. It was time to reconsider.

Radiation Therapy was the next logical choice. It contained a fair bit of physics to learn and to use in order to deliver radiation to patients with cancer. The radiation had to be delivered in a way that allowed the tumour to receive the maximum dose and the surrounding healthy tissue the minimum. I was quite interested and thought that the physics involved would be fantastic. However, my father had a few things to say about it. One of which that I'd be interacting with patients, most of which surgery is not an option or has failed. Also, it is offered to patients as a form of palliative care. My father was concerned about the emotional burden this would bestow upon me and insisted that I choose something less sensitive. I don't know if it was because I was young or because he was afraid for me. Or because he is afraid of dying himself.

The only other options were Nuclear Medicine technology or Diagnostic Radiography. Nuclear medicine of course being physiological investigations and radiography being more so anatomical, despite the growing field of functional MRI (which would barely be taught at undergraduate level anyway). So the answer was diagnostic radiography. I was quite content with radiography in first year - focussing on the subjects I enjoyed and ignoring subjects I found irrelevant or that were poorly taught. So I ended up with an almost binary academic transcript: distinctions for all the things I enjoyed and passes for all the things that were poorly taught or that I had no interest in.

As much as I enjoyed the radiography, I really did feel that our abilities to help others were limited substantially by first, the law and second, by our senior staff because of their concerns for the law. Plus it was a common reputation that radiographers had - "I care enough to help but not enough to do more". That's the crowd I was in and I felt uneasy about such a crowd. I wanted to give it my best. Humanity needs us to do more than what we're capable of doing and I believed that with everything in me. Giving it my best with the highest standards was the bare minimum.

So the time came to re-visit medicine at UNSW not as an candidate from high school, but from a transfer perspective. One rainy afternoon, I parked behind UNSW and found myself walking around the faculty of medicine looking for the administration staff. My path led me to this incredibly small, modest building, with glass doors. It was quiet and there was classical music playing. It seemed I was in the right place.

It was there my decision was made. I spoke to one of the office staff and he asked me the relevant questions.

"What was your UAI?"

"98.10"

"Good. What was your UMAT score?"

"Don't ask."

"Ok. Well you'll need to sit that again. What year are you in your course now?"

"Second year."

"Well how many years is it?"

"Three."

"You should really think about doing graduate medicine at Sydney."

"What's graduate entry?"

"It's when you finish you're degree and enrol into the medical program. If you transferred to UNSW next year, you'd throw out your 2 years in radiography because we have no exemptions. Then you'd have to do 6 years of medical school. So that takes 8 years all up. But if you finish in 3 years and do medicine at Sydney, which is 4 years, you'll be done in 7."

"How do I find out more about this?"

"Go to Sydney University website."

It was very interesting. UNSW staff convincing me to go to Sydney - what an act of selflessness! I'm sure it made no difference to him, but I know for sure that he spent a few more moments with me and that changed the course of my life. It's these little things people do, that perhaps don't seem much, but can have such gravity, such power. Amazing.

I had to sit the GAMSAT, which is like the graduate version of the UMAT as the 'G' implies. However, I decided to sit this in my third year in preparation for the year after. What's interesting is I decided to sit it without studying at all for it and I still managed to pass it, not enough to get me an interview. That's what allowed me to graduate from radiography and work full time for a year - something I will never regret doing. For it was then I understood what hard work really was. The year I was denied starting my journey in medicine was the year I embarked on become a fully accredited radiography plus more.

I decided to keep my job as a high school tutor and despite my heavy workload, I persisted with the list of students that I had, which had steadily risen from about three a week to fifteen a week. Each student was seen individually for an hour once a week or more. That was about 15 hours a week. Most days in radiography, due to the dynamics of the private practice (i.e. nobody wanting to work in x-ray instead opting for CT or more glorified imaging modalities) I was forced to work from 8am to 6pm most days. Not forced by the practice; forced by myself. There were patients that needed help and since nobody else was going to do it because they were "better then x-ray" I was left with doing it myself and sometimes with some help from friends. I also decided to persist with my job at Harvey Norman as a underwriter in finance, which was about 15 hours a week as well. On average I worked about 80 hours a week. Then I established a very good relationship with my lecturer in radiography who was the undergraduate director of the program, who offered me work in marking assignments, which I did at home when I wasn't working at other places. That turned into tutoring at practical sessions in imaging, which further turned into lecturing. Not that often, but preparing a lecture takes a hell of a lot of time. That year was when I knew that teaching was the most effective way of helping others. Teaching future healthcare professionals and sharing moral principles really meant that they too could practice well, deliver better care and definitely be more proactive. I'm not sure how successful I have been with influencing people in this context, but I can sigh with relief knowing I tried the best I could in the time given to me in a lecture theatre.

Here I am now. Ready to start my third year in the graduate medical program. It will still take me all up 8 years because I didn't get into medicine straight through from radiography - I worked full time for a year as a radiographer to become accredited and now I can work while I study as a healthcare professional. That year was a very sound investment; not financially. But clinically. My confidence with people has spiked and I feel so comfortable talking to patients and delivering care as a medical student couldn't feel more rewarding.