Tomorrow is the first of 4 days of exams for me. Day one is the MSAT, or multiple station assessment test, is five stations involving showing off our "Mad Skillz" at clinical diagnosis, history taking, physical exam, ethics reasoning and advanced life support. Mine is at 8 am. So much coffee will be consumed before 6:30 am to get me hopped up enough to be awake and coherent. Good thing I'm not addicted, AT ALL. The next 3 days after that are 3hrs each of written exams, covering the last two years. Again, early consumption of caffeine will take place. Thursday morning, I will begin coffee detox, and expect to have a monster headache, be moderately constipated, and sleep until Saturday. So looking forward to it. For some reason, finals always make me remember and repeatedly recite the poetry of Alfred Tennyson to myself. Specifically "the Charge of the Light Brigade":
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd.
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not,
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
Time to continue to make ready for the charge. 400 of us will be facing the cannons tomorrow.
