By Request – the Bonded Medical Place Scheme

As those of us following the medicine track will know, there’s basically no such thing as a normal place in a medical school.  Or at least they are becoming an endangered species.  Each university is different in what percentage of their seats are allocated to either scholarships, international students, government funded etc.

Griffith University doesn’t accept international students, which I think is a brilliant move, and rather refreshing as it seems inevitable that someone is bound to look at it as an act of nationalism.  It’s refreshing to me as the university is sacrificing revenue that it could get from overseas students because it is acutely aware of the health professional shortage we have in Australia, and Queensland more specifically.

As a result of this, fully funded and partially funded scholarships and programs have been developed by state government to make the prospect of a medical student more attractive, and the medical schools are only too happy to receive their fees up-front rather than waiting a decade for the installments to start rolling in.  One of these non-scholarship places is known as the Bonded Medical Place, hereby known as the BMP. 

Ashes to Ashes; Dust to Dust

Rain fell on an uncharacteristically dark summer day.  They stood dressed in black and white; white to symbolise a new beginning, as is the Chinese custom.  26 white roses descended into the earth.  It was hard to think of new beginnings, because that day symbolised nothing but endings.  It was Christmas eve, and we were burying the man who had led our family through life.

Frank was 16 when he first became a father.  Young, even back in the forties.  By the time he was 21, he was father to 5 children, one of which was my mother.  His life was just beginning then, but now all these years later, his 11 children and 23 grandchildren were gathered to say goodbye.  He had fought his cancer bravely, but inevitably, he lost his fight.

 The Lord is my shephard; I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters.
He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; for You are with me.
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You annoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life;
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Frank Young – my grandfather - died at 5:10pm on December 15 surrounded by his family as his wife told the story of the first time they met.  The calm and golden afternoon light filtered through the windows, signalling that the sun was setting on this day, and on this man’s life.  Later, after his passing, his family walked arm-in-arm from the hospital, laughing, joking, and crying. 

We will always laugh.  Celebration and mourning is remembrance, and we will always remember.

As we walked, the sun slipped below the horizon to bring a night that - for Frank - would never come.

We love you and miss you, big guy.

Adrian.

Unconditional

“You are unconditionally approved for graduation.”‘

 After only a short wait for exam results (sorry, I had them last week), I get an email telling me I have passed everything and can now definately graduate.

Relief!

Anyway, have been really quite busy lately with an illness in the family and trying to work enough to pay the rent now that I’m briefly living on my own, and I’ve neglected the blog world. 

Deal with it; I’ll be back soon!