Dilini Kalupahana remembers starting medical school and being a "first year"

"Oh my God!" No, it's not Helen from Big Brother screaming her ditsy blonde head off again, but that was all I could come up with on opening my A level results. I'd made it, Cardiff Medical School, here I come! I was going to be a real doctor.

I'm sure a lot of you reading this will have forgotten just what that feels like; I certainly had but it all came flooding back when what seemed like five minutes later, my first year at the University of Wales College of Medicine was over. It was around then that I began to recall just what made us first years first years, those expectant and nervous days before beginning, the swell of pride on being given a badge that said "medical student," the realisation that people would treat us with respect and admiration as we trained to become the nation's healers. Hold on, that was just what I thought it would be like. In reality, it all started to go downhill after we enrolled. Ask any first year. What I've written will ring true for any of them.

We were at the bottom of the food chain

We'd made it, all 238 of us, to one of the most prestigious medical schools in Britain. We're allowed to feel a little smug aren't we? I mean, the hard work was done, right? Wrong. It took a day to realise that we were exactly what the badge said, just "first years," right at the bottom of the food chain*nowhere near actual doctor status. Suddenly, years of even more hard work and exams stretched ahead, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. All I could see was the smoke from a blown out match. I was soon to learn that I'd feel like this probably until I, if ever, became a consultant.

As first years we were thrust ahead into our eagerly anticipated clinical attachments-- a chance to practise the sympathetic, head cocked to one side half puzzled, half contemplative look that many doctors have when talking to patients. However, our superiors, on discovering that we were mere juniors, proceeded to lose interest. They left us waiting around (an occurrence not uncommon among consultants I have heard) and told us, in not so many words, to come back when we knew more than just how to spell the words medicine and doctor.

The thing about first year is that you feel as if you've got somewhere and then it hits you, faster than the stench of the dissecting room, that actually you're still nobody-- rather like a tadpole in a big pond. One day you may grow up to be a slimy, green frog that just eats flies and "ribbits" all day (no parallel to consultants to be made), but until then you swim around aimlessly in the pond and pray that the fish don't think that you look tasty.

I thought I knew more than my flatmates

And while the rest of us accept our fate and designated role as insignificant, at least until we get to second year when we become less insignificant, we do still maintain an inner smugness. I, for one, can say that as soon as I had my badge I seemed to think that despite being a little tadpole in a big pond among fellow medics, outside of this I still knew more about medicine than my flatmates. And just as they thought that I'd be able to diagnose and cure them for anything ranging from common cold to glandular fever to broken ribs, I too felt qualified--because I had the magic badge--that I could make it all go away. It didn't take long for them to realise that I had about as much idea about curing cancer as they did. Their confidence in my medical abilities was further stunted when I was unable to answer questions such as, "If I talk to someone with glandular fever will I get it?", "Why are people with a higher metabolic rate thin?" and "Will I get arthritis if I click my fingers all the time?" etc.

And while what I've written may be disheartening, not all my aspirations have been cast aside. I still imagine looking like the glamorous doctors in ER or becoming the next Dr Raj Persaud. But it's these kinds of dreams, the money and the glory, that keep me and others going. Oh, and I do it because I want to help people too.

But the point of all this was just to remind a lot of you what first year was like and that the next time you meet a fresh faced, eager to go little tadpole, just humour us will you?