Tamsin Radford
third year student,
University of Birmingham

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Monday. I am struck by dysphasia under the politely sceptical gaze of an examiner the size of a small eastern European state. Eventually make the professional sounding diagnosis "the patient has an, erm, you know, one of those malignant, mitotic, er, neoplasms in his, er, tubular thing..." In case he doesn't get it I wave my arms in a desperate colon impression. He looks unconvinced.

Tuesday. Buried in revision, Helen decides to form a heavy metal band called Toxic Megacolon. We decide that the other members should be the wealthy rebel Scanty Bowel-Sounds, with Frank Ulceration on lead vocals.

Wednesday. The medical school is missing a face today as a colleague approaches his revision problem from the ski slopes of France. I have a baguette. It's Helen and Louise's Tai Chi night - an intense session of thanking their internal organs. I hope Louise said an extra thank you to her liver for all the Pernod it's put up with over the years. She says her chi energy moved. It's wind again.

Thursday. A cocky computer rep is rendered speechless at an audit by the outburst from an eminent consultant: "What was wrong with paper and pencils anyway?" Two doctors pass their time debating where their portraits will go, while mine shows his inexperience by politely raising his hand and asking a pertinent question.

Friday. Laura's hopes of a concise exam history are dashed by the patient - "Well, it all started when I was feeding the fish...." Suffer a shock when Helen declares she likes medicine. All becomes clear when her hormones shower and apply perfume before floating out to do take with her new senior house officer. He teaches her how to elicit clonus - "can you feel it, Helen?"

Weekend. The ball. Jigging enthusiastically, I grope one of the dignitaries who is ballroom dancing uncomfortably to the Friends theme tune while maintaining a dignified expression. Later find a large label dangling out of my dress. So that's why I haven't pulled?