David Poon and the Road to Medical School: Pit Stop

David Poon and the Road to Medical School: Pit Stop

DISCLAIMER: My blog drips of sarcasm and offbeat, attempted humour. If you dislike amateur comedians, um... how did you get here!? Also, no one loves me. Keep the comments coming!

(continued from

Prologue: Premeds
http://howmanycharacterscaniuse.blogspot.com/2008/07/predavid-poon-and-road-to-medical.html

Part One: Asian Fail
http://howmanycharacterscaniuse.blogspot.com/2008/07/david-poon-and-road-to-medical-school.html

NOTE: This post is out of continuity in regards to the epic 4 part (plus prologue) literary opus that is 'David Poon and the Road to Medical School' - it's simply set up to show non meds how the system works.

Also, I am now officially a blogger. I've posted this series (from my original Facebook series) at:

http://howmanycharacterscaniuse.blogspot.com

... so people who are not my Facebook friends can read. As mentioned, the series is supposed to share my perspective on how I got into medicine so it may benefit someone who currently is looking to get in, or colleagues who want to share a laugh. I should explain that more. I posted a link on:

http://www.premed101.com/forums/showthread.php?t=28359

... cause I thought people might like it.

Wow, was I wrong.

Readers, I'm officially a blogger now because I have HATE MAIL! Browse through the above couple links to see all of it, but my personal favorite bump on the head is:

"I would never want you to be my doctor."

Another choice piece:

"Your blog is the biggest piece of bullshit on the internet."

ON THE INTERNET! What a compliment!! Literally millions of different sites, pages, blogs, pornos, bullshit sites, pages, blogs, and pornos, and MINE is the biggest!!! I'm such a web celebrity.

You really got to read those. Seriously. While you're there, I'd love it if you could defend my honour. Or continue to flame me...

I'm good at being flaming.

So now I'm feeling sad today. Medicine made me sad today. Are you guys enjoying this at all? The Internets, they hates me.

Thank you for all the great comments, they're really something special.)


At this point, I get into the finer, dirtier details of the application process to get into medical school. Premeds know it inside and out (much unlike their knowledge of girls), but reasonable people haven't studied the process as intently (obsessively?).

Relax, I'm one of the nerds too. I'm writing this up all by memory.

Medical schools across the country have separate criteria for entrance, but most follow some basic principals:

1) Academic component. Get high marks in a certain number of required classes, plus non required classes. Can be done through studying or bribes (I prefer sexual favours). Usually requires students to complete at least a bachelor's degree. Easy, since dating as a premed is impossible. Get it? Bachelor's. I'm hilarious.

2) Medical College Admissions Test (MCAT). Cut off your testicles, you won't need them for the ball crushing 8 hour behemoth of an exam that takes advantage of you and makes you smile about it. Assesses your biology, physics, verbal reasoning (ie. guesswork) skills, as well as the ability to write constructive arguments. Only allowed to be written at certain times of the year, like seasonal changes. That want to kill you.

3) Essay/Personal Profile/Application Questions. Some sort of written assessment of who you are. In my case, I wrote the phrase “I was a cheerleader.” Seriously!

4) Interview. Kind of like real job interviews, but far less controlled back in my day. Now the med school interviews are a variant of speed dating. 9 minutes in a room with one person. No one talks about what happens in there. I'm guessing it's very sexy, hopefully resulting in an increase of beautiful people in the classes to come.

And finally there are international medical schools, where there is an additional criterion: Incredible Wealth. We're talking hundreds of thousands of dollars buy the end of it all.

There are three schools in Canada that accept students into medical school after 2 years of undergrad: University of Alberta (in Edmonton), University of Saskatchewan (in Saskatoon), and the University of Calgary (in Guelph I think). Quebec raised students can also go to Quebec schools in that amount of time, but they have some creepy French grade 13 system that requires you to choose if you want to learn math OR English for the rest of your life. Explains the number of people working at coffee shops.

Also explains the competition.

I came to the UofS with something like a 96 average in grade 11 and a 94 in grade 12. Which means shit all nothing, cause high school grades are like a balloon – full of hot air and wayyyy too inflated. Anyone who tells you they had a 90 percent average in high school was very good at one thing: talking. “Talking” to teachers to get higher marks they “deserve,” every time it was below a 90. That sort of thing. Or they are phenomenal cheaters. I'm kinda in both camps.

Those I went to school with may remember I never talked about my marks. I thought it was stupid that people judged you by them. But the reason I mention them now is because numbers are an essential part to the competitive spirit. In sports, your numbers decide on who wins. In curling, your numbers decide who gets free Tim Hortons. Or free Hearts, or something.

In medicine, your numbers decide who gets in. I assume most premeds have taken out their calculators by now to figure out their average.

The constant obsessing over averages can be seen in this commonplace scenario:

(Guy sits alone on kitchen table, calculator in one hand. On table are his report cards since grade 7. In his other hand is a glass of Sunny D.)

“Okay, if I get 87 percent on my chem final, I'll get a...

(tick tick tick tick)

... 93.15 in the class, which would bring my overall average to a...

(tick tick tick tick)

... 92.266 if you count my first maths, dropping my third lowest mark. But that means on my English final I can only get...

(tick tick tick tick)

... three questions wrong, but luckily I did the bonus assignment which I probably got only a half mark off because I copied off of David Poon and he sleeps with the teacher, so...

(tick tick tick tick)

... I'll have a high enough average to pick up chicks in the bar! Hey baby, you can call me 95.6! Hey, 95.6 rhymes with chicks!! I'M A GENIUS!!!”

'Tick tick tick tick' can also be the sound of his girlfriend's ovarian clock as her fertile time slowly fades away in a pile of bright cover pages and bibliographies.

Good form of birth control though. Guess premeds are kinda smart.

- David