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Satire

42-year-old medical graduate finally takes a day off

Design: Azmin Azran

Dr Shadman Sakib, 42, is a medical school graduate in Dhaka who is finally ready to start living his life and earning some real cash, now that he's done with his academics. After earning an MBBS, FCPS, MRCS, FTP, SD, Micro-SD and countless other acronym-based medical degrees no one knows the full forms of, he's ready to take a day's vacation for the first time in 21 years. The last vacation Dr Shadman took was reportedly the day when he filled up his medical school application forms.

"I am the oldest of my siblings so as you can assume, I'm the experimentation child of the family," said Shadman while talking about his childhood.

"Growing up, my parents decided to make me everything they were not because my grandparents wouldn't allow it. I was supposed to be the Shakib Al Hasan of the NCTB and ace my academics while excelling at singing, dancing, debating and competitive chess. I must admit that my parents sacrificed a lot for me and I owe my success to their dedication. However, they forgot one tiny, irrelevant and insignificant detail. They forgot to ask me what I wanted in life."

Soon, Shadman's frustrations morphed into self-harming tendencies, "I was going through clinical depression and finally told my father about my mental state. He listened to my distress with concern and advised me to put this self-abusive tendency to use. That's when I opted for medical school."

Dr Sigma Fraud, a famous psychologist and Shadman's professor, talked about the plight of medical students in the country. "People often mistake medical schools to be the holy grail of medical studies," said Dr Fraud. "Sure, that's one of our priorities but our prime focus is on getting our students acquainted with daily trauma. As future doctors, they should get used to mind-numbing stress and nothing but humiliation in return. Fortunately, in Bangladesh, finding teenagers willing to take intolerable academic pressure without asking any questions isn't a problem."

"Hospitals are where people come to die, and it's depressing," continues Dr Fraud while explaining the medical school culture in Bangladesh. "It's a place where we isolate our students from the outside world long enough so that by the time they graduate, they forget how normal human interactions work. After spending days and nights in this godforsaken and claustrophobic place, all they're left with is each other. It's basically like a state penitentiary, only the food's much worse."

"I've seen my friends graduate, get jobs, get married, have babies, lose hair, get overweight and suffer from premature heart attacks, the entire circle of life, while I spent my days getting screamed at by some rude surgeon," Shadman continued. "I gave up on sleep around my final prof exam and on life during my internship. I even met my wife in the OT while assisting the chief surgeon in a liver transplant. I proposed to her in the ICU and spent our honeymoon in the MRI room. But now, I'm finally ready to settle down and start earning the same amount of money my friends did 10 years back. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to say hi to my children. I haven't seen them in eight months."

Remind Ifti to be quieter at hasiburrashidifti@gmail.com

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Satire

42-year-old medical graduate finally takes a day off

Design: Azmin Azran

Dr Shadman Sakib, 42, is a medical school graduate in Dhaka who is finally ready to start living his life and earning some real cash, now that he's done with his academics. After earning an MBBS, FCPS, MRCS, FTP, SD, Micro-SD and countless other acronym-based medical degrees no one knows the full forms of, he's ready to take a day's vacation for the first time in 21 years. The last vacation Dr Shadman took was reportedly the day when he filled up his medical school application forms.

"I am the oldest of my siblings so as you can assume, I'm the experimentation child of the family," said Shadman while talking about his childhood.

"Growing up, my parents decided to make me everything they were not because my grandparents wouldn't allow it. I was supposed to be the Shakib Al Hasan of the NCTB and ace my academics while excelling at singing, dancing, debating and competitive chess. I must admit that my parents sacrificed a lot for me and I owe my success to their dedication. However, they forgot one tiny, irrelevant and insignificant detail. They forgot to ask me what I wanted in life."

Soon, Shadman's frustrations morphed into self-harming tendencies, "I was going through clinical depression and finally told my father about my mental state. He listened to my distress with concern and advised me to put this self-abusive tendency to use. That's when I opted for medical school."

Dr Sigma Fraud, a famous psychologist and Shadman's professor, talked about the plight of medical students in the country. "People often mistake medical schools to be the holy grail of medical studies," said Dr Fraud. "Sure, that's one of our priorities but our prime focus is on getting our students acquainted with daily trauma. As future doctors, they should get used to mind-numbing stress and nothing but humiliation in return. Fortunately, in Bangladesh, finding teenagers willing to take intolerable academic pressure without asking any questions isn't a problem."

"Hospitals are where people come to die, and it's depressing," continues Dr Fraud while explaining the medical school culture in Bangladesh. "It's a place where we isolate our students from the outside world long enough so that by the time they graduate, they forget how normal human interactions work. After spending days and nights in this godforsaken and claustrophobic place, all they're left with is each other. It's basically like a state penitentiary, only the food's much worse."

"I've seen my friends graduate, get jobs, get married, have babies, lose hair, get overweight and suffer from premature heart attacks, the entire circle of life, while I spent my days getting screamed at by some rude surgeon," Shadman continued. "I gave up on sleep around my final prof exam and on life during my internship. I even met my wife in the OT while assisting the chief surgeon in a liver transplant. I proposed to her in the ICU and spent our honeymoon in the MRI room. But now, I'm finally ready to settle down and start earning the same amount of money my friends did 10 years back. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to say hi to my children. I haven't seen them in eight months."

Remind Ifti to be quieter at hasiburrashidifti@gmail.com

Comments