3 Reasons Why Everyone Needs A Friend Who’s A Med Student
We all know folks on victory laps and highly respect their unwillingness to enter the real world. Once their number starts getting past five years, they start sounding like Harry Potter characters calling themselves fifth and sixth years. Hell, I’ve even met a seventh year before; they were basically a tenured professor at that point.
What if I told you there are people who go to school for 8+ years; not because they repeatedly failed, but by their own choice? These scholars of longevity are the few, the proud, the med school students. They sit in class for almost a full decade to learn the miracles of medicine and save all of our lives with their magical body-healing abilities.
Every friend group needs at least one person who’s a med school student, and here are the top three reasons why.
They’re The Token Lightweight
You’d think that anyone who indebts themselves for 8+ years to have one of the most stressful jobs on Earth might develop a drinking habit. My own personal experience proves otherwise.
Take my one friend in med school, for example. The night starts out innocent and sober enough. A single tequila shot and a Redd’s Apple Ale later and we find him having an overly-emotional conversation with a strip club bouncer about his hopes and dreams. Add a Coors Light into the mix and the dude is falling down staircases and can barely speak a straight sentence. Fast forward to the next morning and they have a hangover that’ll last all day. I’ve drank more during a midterm with less consequences.
If you can save a life and perform surgery, I’d expect you’re as familiar with a bottle as you are with a scalpel and anesthesia. But no; their body can handle the stress, trials, and tribulations of medical school, but not a night of moderate drinking.
They Relay Funny Stories From Their Job
Yes, doctor/patient confidentiality exists, but from what I understand it doesn’t apply if you don’t know which patient they’re talking about. And through this little loophole that I’m just gonna go and assume legally exists, I’ve received a whole collection of hilarious stories.
Everyone goes to the E.R. at least once in their life for a reason so embarrassing they never tell anyone else. Well if a story’s worth telling someone has to tell it, and I’ve heard a bunch. Personal favorites of mine include the old lady who had to have anal beads surgically removed on a Sunday afternoon and the 75-year-old who overdosed on someone else’s “medical” marijuana edibles.
The stories keep coming, and I hope they never end.
They Can Be Your Personal Doctor
As far as I can tell, there are two main reasons you’d want your own personal doctor. One, it screams “I’m richer than you!” And two — and more economically speaking — medical shit is expensive. Save yourself some money by having a buddy who can hook you up.
I told my token medical school friend when we both graduated that if I ever need a surgery, he’s the only one I’m trusting. I don’t even care if it’s in his specialty or not. If I need a liver transplant after my years of excessive drinking, he can handle it. If my third wife who’s twenty years younger than me wants a boob job, he can handle it. If I want my body to be rebuilt as a Cyborg, he can handle it. If I accidentally eat something poisonous and need a small army of humans to shrink down to microscopic size, enter my body, and save me before it’s too late? He can easily handle it.
It’s a situation that helps us both: I get free experimental surgery, and he gets continuous practice and employment.
As much as I believe in the aforementioned reasons you need to have a friend in med school, I can also think of one major downside.
They’ll Tell You Everything You Do That’s Unhealthy
Look, your health is important and you should pay attention to it. But if you keep hearing about just how unhealthy everything you do is, it gets annoying. EXTREMELY annoying.
Oh, drinking a six pack of Bacardi Breezers a night is bad for me? I don’t care. Stuffing my face with an entire Domino’s pizza will raise my cholesterol? Still, don’t care. And for the millionth time, I don’t want to hear about how each cig rip takes 15 minutes off my life.
Let me stay healthy, but let me live..