by JM Deblois
A few months ago we were in the Dean’s office, finishing a fruitful conversation with Dr. Carandang regarding an article we’re making about medical education, when Ma’am Judith, his secretary, interrupted.
“Sir, Dr. Cuanang is here.”
In came the venerable Filipino neurologist of our time, much to our shock. The serendipity was unexpected given the weight of the topic we were debating about. Me and my then Associate Editor Ange expected new ideas about our biggest concern at the time: what is the best way to learn during medical school?
“There you are. I’m here to update you about the Harvard Lectures,” he announced to the Dean.
That was not the first time that we’ve heard of the upcoming lectures. Nonetheless, it just seemed too good to be true before then. Our healthy scepticism turned to excitement though when the man himself, Dr. Cuanang, seemed to be the one turning the gears.
Fast forward to the night of May 17, the Sunday before the first day of the Lectures, the promise is sure to become a reality and my excitement is becoming more and more palpable.
Seeing Facebook pictures of the Harvard Lecturers being welcomed in the Pinto Art Museum by select students from the College of Medicine added to my overflowing excitement.
The three lecturers, Dr. Joshua Klein, Dr. Sashank Prasad, and Dr. Edison Miyawaki, all had wonderful credentials and stunning achievements, surely a given as eminent clinicians and educators in Harvard Medical School. But what excited me the most was their backgrounds in the arts.
Dr. Joshua Klein MD, an expert in neuroimaging and co-author of the 10th edition of Adams and Victor’s, have a background in music composition, while both Dr. Sashank Prasad and Edison Miyawaki, both distinguished lecturers and authors themselves, have backgrounds in English Literature.
They not only know their stuff as medical doctors. It means they have great knowledge too of being human.
Fascinated, I knew I only have to do one thing: I have talk to this people.
Free Will and the “Bereitschaft” potential
The lectures did not disappoint. It is everything in one place: at once fascinating, at once illuminating, at times dumbfounding, sometimes head-bobbing, but nonetheless all are done passionately, with scientific openness, teaching acumen, and strong commitment to the profession.
These cemented my desire further to get to at least talk to them and ask them even the most mundane, non-medically related question. At least pick their brains a little after all the tiring neuro-talk mornings. I want to know what’s beyond the “given”. I want to know the human beings behind the suit and tie.
My chance came on Thursday, the fourth day of the Lectures in the second student’s hour (I missed the first one due to my tardiness), and by a whole set of reasons privy to those who have attended the event, the conversation slid down to something deeply philosophical, i.e. the nature of free will.
Dr. Prasad gave me this assignment: read about the Bereitschaft potential, a concept that seems to play with the idea that “something fires up in the brain even before one thinks of the action”, something beyond our “will” per se, but one that we can “veto” instead.
Not exactly free will, but a “free won’t”.
But the most interesting answer came from Dr. Miyawaki, who in his usual funny way removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves during the discussion. He said “Even if such discoveries were made, it’s still difficult to answer the obvious determinism of the Universe.”
There is something suggestively religious with his answer. Nonetheless, whether he’s spiritual or not, it doesn’t matter. What he said reeks of wisdom and his open curiosity - marks of a true scientist.
“Surely it cannot take into account the fact that we chose to go to Medical School isn’t it?”
A few months ago we were in the Dean’s office, finishing a fruitful conversation with Dr. Carandang regarding an article we’re making about medical education, when Ma’am Judith, his secretary, interrupted.
“Sir, Dr. Cuanang is here.”
In came the venerable Filipino neurologist of our time, much to our shock. The serendipity was unexpected given the weight of the topic we were debating about. Me and my then Associate Editor Ange expected new ideas about our biggest concern at the time: what is the best way to learn during medical school?
“There you are. I’m here to update you about the Harvard Lectures,” he announced to the Dean.
That was not the first time that we’ve heard of the upcoming lectures. Nonetheless, it just seemed too good to be true before then. Our healthy scepticism turned to excitement though when the man himself, Dr. Cuanang, seemed to be the one turning the gears.
Fast forward to the night of May 17, the Sunday before the first day of the Lectures, the promise is sure to become a reality and my excitement is becoming more and more palpable.
Seeing Facebook pictures of the Harvard Lecturers being welcomed in the Pinto Art Museum by select students from the College of Medicine added to my overflowing excitement.
The three lecturers, Dr. Joshua Klein, Dr. Sashank Prasad, and Dr. Edison Miyawaki, all had wonderful credentials and stunning achievements, surely a given as eminent clinicians and educators in Harvard Medical School. But what excited me the most was their backgrounds in the arts.
Dr. Joshua Klein MD, an expert in neuroimaging and co-author of the 10th edition of Adams and Victor’s, have a background in music composition, while both Dr. Sashank Prasad and Edison Miyawaki, both distinguished lecturers and authors themselves, have backgrounds in English Literature.
They not only know their stuff as medical doctors. It means they have great knowledge too of being human.
Fascinated, I knew I only have to do one thing: I have talk to this people.
Free Will and the “Bereitschaft” potential
The lectures did not disappoint. It is everything in one place: at once fascinating, at once illuminating, at times dumbfounding, sometimes head-bobbing, but nonetheless all are done passionately, with scientific openness, teaching acumen, and strong commitment to the profession.
These cemented my desire further to get to at least talk to them and ask them even the most mundane, non-medically related question. At least pick their brains a little after all the tiring neuro-talk mornings. I want to know what’s beyond the “given”. I want to know the human beings behind the suit and tie.
My chance came on Thursday, the fourth day of the Lectures in the second student’s hour (I missed the first one due to my tardiness), and by a whole set of reasons privy to those who have attended the event, the conversation slid down to something deeply philosophical, i.e. the nature of free will.
Dr. Prasad gave me this assignment: read about the Bereitschaft potential, a concept that seems to play with the idea that “something fires up in the brain even before one thinks of the action”, something beyond our “will” per se, but one that we can “veto” instead.
Not exactly free will, but a “free won’t”.
But the most interesting answer came from Dr. Miyawaki, who in his usual funny way removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves during the discussion. He said “Even if such discoveries were made, it’s still difficult to answer the obvious determinism of the Universe.”
There is something suggestively religious with his answer. Nonetheless, whether he’s spiritual or not, it doesn’t matter. What he said reeks of wisdom and his open curiosity - marks of a true scientist.
“Surely it cannot take into account the fact that we chose to go to Medical School isn’t it?”
The good teacher and the good student
Dean Carandang, sitting in his usual sagely manner on the far end of the table, himself a neurologist and an educator, popped up this question.
“How does one become a good teacher?”
Dr. Miyawaki answered succinctly and beautifully. “Don’t bullshit.”
“This young people know if you’re bullshitting them, and they won’t like it.”
“Don’t try to be somebody else in the podium. I mean, take me for example, I can’t help being myself while I’m teaching!”, and he chuckled at himself while the rest of the table, composed of many of the freshmen faculty and some second year faculty, hitched in with the joke with light-hearted, perhaps knowing, laughter.
A new question then rose up within me. So I raised up my hand and asked:
“How does one then become a good medical student?”
Dr. Miyawaki in his usual sharp comedic timing responded, “I wasn’t a good medical student.” Everybody laughed.
“No but, seriously, I wasn’t a good medical student. I wasn’t even a good English graduate student!”, and he proceeded to enumerate his unimpressive grades in graduate school.
“My first two years in medical school was a struggle,” Dr. Prasad added with a morose face as if remembering a bad memory, affirming the difficulty of memorizing the sheer volume of information as a medical student himself.
“Sometimes I’m just thankful back then that, at the end of the day, I survive”
Dr. Klein, however, in his silence about his own experiences – which may suggest that he’s an achiever through and through, we can’t be sure and it is not important - gave a most convincing answer “If you’re having a difficult time right now of not having to study all the more interesting stuff like those in journals, then just be patient. By the time you are in the clinics, you will then study all of this again, and by then you’ll have a lifetime ahead of you to read and to learn.”
Another amazing insight however came from one of our own, Katrina Ordinanza of batch 2019, as she commented later on the discussion: “It’s not about being a good medical student. It’s about being a good medical doctor.”
The good medical doctor
What does it mean then to become a good doctor? We’ve all heard of this before, that grades in the classroom setting does not necessarily translate to the clinics. I’ve heard it once again from these great people from Harvard, affirming that the same thing happens elsewhere in the world and not just the Philippines.
So what does it really mean?
I tried searching in the internet how to be a good doctor, and what I’ve found is a bunch of phrases: “one with compassion,” “dedication to service,” “someone who knows what he’s doing,” etc. etc., a bunch of clichéd terms that bears no weight except if acted upon.
What is visible within the lecturers throughout this near-magical week of learning, however, are few of the traits that I am sure about: passion about the profession, a sense of wonder, natural curiosity, and the desire to share the knowledge of what we know and what we don’t to the world.
If those are not enough to make you a good doctor, then I don’t know what will.
Dr. Prasad, when inquired by Dr. Cuanang about how they’re able to use their backgrounds in the arts as clinicians, responded beautifully: “It helps us see humanity.”
A “successful” event
“We never thought it would be this successful”, Dr. Carandang said to me in one of our brief chats at the end of the Student’s Hour.
Surely that was an understatement, with all the picture-takings, book signings, and even reg-form signings that occurred throughout the week, it’s almost like they brought to us the Avengers of the medical world.
The whole Harvard Lectures was not just successful. It was a roaring, awe-inspiring success.
As for me, an incoming third year, faced with even greater “unknowns” as the track to becoming a neurologist gets even more challenging, the fire of passion was rekindled with the help of these three individuals.
I’m sure that the rest of the medical students, aspiring neurologists or not, all felt the same way.
And to those medical students who may be having a hard time right now, I guess the message is clear.
Whenever the sheer amount of “rote learning” we have to do weighs upon us, and whenever we just have to endure and be thankful to “survive” as Dr. Prasad once did, then remember these words from the man who co-authored one of the most fascinating textbooks you will encounter in medical school:
“Be patient”.
That is to say, don’t give up. [x]
Dean Carandang, sitting in his usual sagely manner on the far end of the table, himself a neurologist and an educator, popped up this question.
“How does one become a good teacher?”
Dr. Miyawaki answered succinctly and beautifully. “Don’t bullshit.”
“This young people know if you’re bullshitting them, and they won’t like it.”
“Don’t try to be somebody else in the podium. I mean, take me for example, I can’t help being myself while I’m teaching!”, and he chuckled at himself while the rest of the table, composed of many of the freshmen faculty and some second year faculty, hitched in with the joke with light-hearted, perhaps knowing, laughter.
A new question then rose up within me. So I raised up my hand and asked:
“How does one then become a good medical student?”
Dr. Miyawaki in his usual sharp comedic timing responded, “I wasn’t a good medical student.” Everybody laughed.
“No but, seriously, I wasn’t a good medical student. I wasn’t even a good English graduate student!”, and he proceeded to enumerate his unimpressive grades in graduate school.
“My first two years in medical school was a struggle,” Dr. Prasad added with a morose face as if remembering a bad memory, affirming the difficulty of memorizing the sheer volume of information as a medical student himself.
“Sometimes I’m just thankful back then that, at the end of the day, I survive”
Dr. Klein, however, in his silence about his own experiences – which may suggest that he’s an achiever through and through, we can’t be sure and it is not important - gave a most convincing answer “If you’re having a difficult time right now of not having to study all the more interesting stuff like those in journals, then just be patient. By the time you are in the clinics, you will then study all of this again, and by then you’ll have a lifetime ahead of you to read and to learn.”
Another amazing insight however came from one of our own, Katrina Ordinanza of batch 2019, as she commented later on the discussion: “It’s not about being a good medical student. It’s about being a good medical doctor.”
The good medical doctor
What does it mean then to become a good doctor? We’ve all heard of this before, that grades in the classroom setting does not necessarily translate to the clinics. I’ve heard it once again from these great people from Harvard, affirming that the same thing happens elsewhere in the world and not just the Philippines.
So what does it really mean?
I tried searching in the internet how to be a good doctor, and what I’ve found is a bunch of phrases: “one with compassion,” “dedication to service,” “someone who knows what he’s doing,” etc. etc., a bunch of clichéd terms that bears no weight except if acted upon.
What is visible within the lecturers throughout this near-magical week of learning, however, are few of the traits that I am sure about: passion about the profession, a sense of wonder, natural curiosity, and the desire to share the knowledge of what we know and what we don’t to the world.
If those are not enough to make you a good doctor, then I don’t know what will.
Dr. Prasad, when inquired by Dr. Cuanang about how they’re able to use their backgrounds in the arts as clinicians, responded beautifully: “It helps us see humanity.”
A “successful” event
“We never thought it would be this successful”, Dr. Carandang said to me in one of our brief chats at the end of the Student’s Hour.
Surely that was an understatement, with all the picture-takings, book signings, and even reg-form signings that occurred throughout the week, it’s almost like they brought to us the Avengers of the medical world.
The whole Harvard Lectures was not just successful. It was a roaring, awe-inspiring success.
As for me, an incoming third year, faced with even greater “unknowns” as the track to becoming a neurologist gets even more challenging, the fire of passion was rekindled with the help of these three individuals.
I’m sure that the rest of the medical students, aspiring neurologists or not, all felt the same way.
And to those medical students who may be having a hard time right now, I guess the message is clear.
Whenever the sheer amount of “rote learning” we have to do weighs upon us, and whenever we just have to endure and be thankful to “survive” as Dr. Prasad once did, then remember these words from the man who co-authored one of the most fascinating textbooks you will encounter in medical school:
“Be patient”.
That is to say, don’t give up. [x]