when i first started psychiatry posting, the traveling time to the hospital irked me. the consistency and regularity and how PIE will jam every morning without fail, disgusted me. the 25 min drive and continued attention while driving along PIE, gave me dry eyes and made me feel stoned on arrival at the hospital. i decided stoically, that this would be my worst posting yet.

my decision remained unchanged after 2 weeks of psychiatry, until i started my posting at IMH. some colleagues had told me before hand that IMH was the place to go, the place with the most FLORRID of presentations, the place where we actually learnt psychiatry. after 4 days at IMH, i concur with what they said. i may not have seen catalepsy, waxy flexibility etc, but i did see a good number of bipolars, substance dependence cases and a definite fair share of schizophrenia.

what struck me the most after the IMH posting, was definitely the patients. I would like to share in particular one patient, who got me thinking a lot.

This lady was a highly functioning lady, who spoke well and clearly and answered all my questions to the point. she was very neat and well-kempt, and she flicked her head gently to shift her fringe off her face, before starting the interview. "how could she be mad?" i thought to myself. i shook her hand and ushered her to her seat in the interview room.

only when she started talking about how she had hundreds of children with a certain politician, and how she loved a man who didnt exist, and how she felt she was growing a tail did i accept her diagnosis. i didnt know what to believe. i found myself taking notes and scrawling all over my notebook as i struggled to keep up with her delusions and hallucinations. she was in her own world. no, she was in 2 worlds, in ours and also in hers. i spent a total of 2.5 hours talking to this lady.

at times during the interview, she would look afraid and she would hold my hand and ask me for help. i knew that it isnt in my power to help her with her requests, and it pained me to an extent that i could offer her no comfort. i could only hope that the medications would take effect and her delusions would reduce. she has nobody to take care of her. her husband had passed away and she was all alone, and penniless to boot. she had spent all her money unwisely, basically a sad result of her condition. where would she go? what could she do after her discharge? who would take care of her? she kept asking me where she could buy a lock, to lock her door to prevent people from entering and harming her.

when she left the interview room, i was mentally exhausted and left with my mind all a whirl. i kept thinking about how someone so rational could be mentally ill, and i stood at the doorway, watching as she shuffled into the patient's dining area, where her dinner awaited, and i watched as she stooped over her food and shoveled food into her mouth. she was no longer a person, but a patient.

sometimes, i think the worst possible condition a person can get, is nothing physical, not even cancer can hold a torch to a psychiatric illness. how can one survive and live a normal life after losing his/her mind? its so scary. after the IMH posting, strangely, psychiatry seems rather interesting. but i dont think i can deal with the sadness of losing the sense of self, the fear of imaginary harm, the slow but certain deterioration of minds. thats probably why i wont enter the field.

but nothing is for certain, eh?





-cheryl~*

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