After 10-hour library days and piles of new material, we don't want to hear about people having fun. We want to hear about people suffering. Last Saturday night, my housemates and I were regaled with stories of third years' surgery rotations: five a.m. call, days spent dodging residents and falling asleep standing up, watching surgeries well past lunch, jumping at pimp questions, hiding in the library. Tales of suffering and hijinks, with a subtext of, "aren't we hardcore?"
Other things that make us feel better are listening to first years struggle through the monotony of molecular and cellular biology (wouldn't you rather be studying patient care than tyrosine kinases?) and imagining those first years who complained, "I studied too much -- the test was easy" in our sorry shoes next year. We'll see how they're talking then.
Fortunately, we have a couple of clinical years after boards to bring us back to the proper levels of empathy that everyone wants in their physician. To reintroduce us to society, if you will.
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