By 
0
0
A hush fell over the hospital common room, and medical students of all years looked around in confusion as aromas of chicken, champagne, and success filled the air. The clack of RMs on the hospital floor grew louder, and in strolled Connie Vention, final year medical student and 6-time AMSA National Convention delegate. For a moment all sat stunned, but the buzz of chatter quickly returned as whispers about Vention whipped around the room.
“I was there! She tried to fail her 5th-year exam so she could make it to Melbourne 2020, but the skills she’d picked up from Emergency Medical Challenge meant she was just too advanced.”
“I heard she got accepted into every single undergrad university offering med, but chose UNSW just so she could attend as many times as possible.”
“Everyone knows she’s gonna ace her internship. I mean, she has the strength to party all night and still rock up to 8AM academics every day for a whole week! What a madwoman!”
Flicking her hair as she strode past her admirers, those nearby caught a brief glimpse of her Lap of the Map medallion, so bedazzling she no longer needed the millions of freebie pen torches she had hoarded from the sponsorship tradeshows.
We managed to catch up with Connie for a quick chat this afternoon about Hobart 2019. We found her quietly sipping on a coffee in the corner, but at the very mention of Convention, her eyes sparkled like the remnants of glitter still found in her hair.
“Everyone always discredits smaller cities, but honestly those are the ones that go all out! I loved how close our uni fam got – we didn’t embrace Tasmania’s level of family love, but still. Also managed to get THE Talley to sign my textbook, so I’m pretty much guaranteed to pass my clin exams. Oh and WOW the socials!! Kinda salty my group costume idea of chlamydia for “Into the Fires Below” was vetoed, but whatever.”
Hearing her excitement, several heads turned around. Convirgins. Their bank accounts were fuller, but their antibodies to conventionitis were as non-existent as their wild stories about week-long escapades. Connie, only recently recovered from her last bout of conventionitis, was now unlocking her post-convention depression. To help, we asked her to tell us more about her favourite convention memories.
“You just can’t choose! Planning my social night outfits months in advance, getting into convention debating and letting everyone know that we at UNSW mean business. We are the Master Debators. Oh, and all the inspiring talks from gold medallists to doctors working in war-torn countries. Ugh, and I can’t forget all the mates I made – from JCU all the way down to UTAS, and across to UWA! The experiences are different every single year – the only thing staying the same are those damn cadaver jokes.”
We left Connie where she was, stroking the goon stained rego band still on her wrist, refusing to unlock and admit her sentence was over. She suddenly sat upright and chugged her double shot cappuccino in record time, instinctively flinging the cup upside down onto her head. Her fingers, expertly trained from every April she spent ensuring she got registration, were now speeding across the keys of her laptop. The bright screen pinged with messages as she contacted everyone on the Melbourne 2020 team she was friends with, begging for alumni tickets to be released. Her super suit would be in for another ride.
By 
