Medicine has created a culture where public embarrassment, bullying, and passive-aggression have become pedagogy. How can we seek to care for others, when we treat our own so cruelly?
I recently met Angie (name changed), a young university student who had entered the clinical years of medical school. Like many, she was introduced to medicine as a naive, excited teen immediately out of high school — a high achiever with the usual romantic notions of medicine. She aspired to weave the mythical healing powers of medicine, giving hope to those who had lost theirs. In six brief months, as she was met with the medical coalface, these notions were shattered; her bubbly, positive attitude replaced with cynicism and anxiety. An unending cycle of anxiety and panic had become her routine — a daily fight to survive what seemed like never-ending lashes of taunts and humiliation heaped upon her.
“Who was this person?” I inquired upon seeing her distress. Her initial confusion of how to respond had me perplexed. Quickly, it dawned on me. This was not a rogue consultant dishing out abuse, this was a reaction to the very delivery of her education. She was facing a constant struggle with the subtle digs, the perpetual feelings of inadequacy, the constant interrogative nature of medical teaching. Angie had spent months experiencing nearly daily panic attacks, constant negative thoughts, and suicidal ideation. Her self-esteem was shattered. The feeling that she was letting everyone down simply consumed her. The burden of her inadequacies so frequently laid bare had become unbearable.
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