Reflections on the “Midlife Rush to Study Medicine”

A couple of days ago a friend sent me a rather interesting article. It gathered together several "old-timers" who, in middle age, retook the college entrance exam to study TCM at university, profiling each of them. The article was richly illustrated with photos of these old-timers living campus life.

I was not among them, of course. I protect my personal privacy well, so no such reporting has involved me. In fact, not long after I enrolled, journalists contacted me wanting to interview me, and I politely declined. I believe there must be even more low-profile middle-aged and elderly students at universities than I.

The friend who sent me the article is an "elder brother" born in the early 1970s; I was born in the late 1970s. I teased him: why don't you take the exam too, and join the fun? In recent years there have indeed been a few middle-aged and elderly people who, like me, retook the national college entrance exam to study at medical school—mostly studying TCM. But compared with the total number of middle-aged people nationwide, it must be fewer than one in ten million.

Of course, besides the college entrance exam, some middle-aged friends have chosen the traditional medical-apprenticeship model to study medicine; this group is larger, though it is less eye-catching than the gaokao and draws less social attention. I believe that as more middle-aged and elderly people retake the gaokao and return to university, cases like ours will gradually become commonplace. On European university campuses, such situations have existed for many years, and Europeans have long been used to them.

I am slightly different: I am now studying clinical medicine—that is, Western medicine as commonly understood. My TCM education was completed more than a decade ago through the traditional apprenticeship model (in reality, largely self-study). But after I graduate from clinical medicine, I do plan to take the gaokao once more to study three years of acupuncture and tuina.

I may not fully graduate from medical school until 2032 or 2033—when I am 53 or 54. Of course, I may instead choose the apprenticeship model and study acupuncture and tuina with a teacher in Beijing. Completing a basically comprehensive medical education will give me a deeper understanding of medicine. When I graduate, my son will basically have finished his PhD too, if his master's and doctoral exams go smoothly.

In a Surgery class this semester, when my surgery teacher lectured on anesthesia and pain relief, she strongly advocated integrated Chinese-Western analgesia to reduce patients' suffering and side effects. She said that when you actually encounter specific diseases in clinical practice, you will find that all the knowledge you have learned put together is not enough. She also said that the textbook is the textbook and clinical practice is clinical practice; one should not study medicine too rigidly.

Her words resonated deeply with me; they are truly the heartfelt words of a doctor who has practiced clinically. I personally feel that if a Chinese person truly loves medicine, it is worth spending ten years mastering Western medicine and another ten years mastering Chinese medicine, and then using both to serve patients and relieve their suffering.

Of course, this is too idealistic; after all, not many people have twenty years to spend on professional study. But I may well do it. For me, the current study of Western medicine is only the beginning; in the future I will spend a great deal more time and effort studying and researching it. In ten years, my Western-medicine level should also be quite good.

People of our age differ from young people: we know only too well the value of medicine. So the drive for us middle-aged to study medicine is strong; we do not care what the general public thinks of the medical profession, or whether its market is good or bad—that has nothing to do with us. I see many middle-aged friends studying medicine, and their purpose is not necessarily to become doctors; they take things as they come. Frankly, I am the same. Our main purpose is to study medicine to keep fit and safeguard the health of ourselves and our families.

When people reach middle and old age, their bodies decline faster and faster; more and more relatives around us have died of illness, and more and more friends and relatives are suffering from disease. For us, medicine is indispensable—as important as our food, water, and air.

Middle-aged people studying medicine is like middle-aged people's dress: it is about practicality, no longer caring about the fame of the school or the degree—especially for those of us past forty. The abundance of online teaching resources today is beyond what we could have imagined when young. On Bilibili you can find complete lecture videos by renowned teachers from top universities on almost any course; this is a truly wall-less university.

Of course, studying at school and studying at home are still quite different. I count myself as a highly self-disciplined person, but my efficiency at home is still lower than at school. At school, I wake up, run a few laps around the track, have a simple breakfast, and start the day's study in the classroom; what I can learn each day is 2–3 times what I could learn off campus. Studying at school is not only efficient but also builds very healthy habits, which is good for the body.

I do not know the physical condition of other middle-aged friends studying medicine at university, but mine is currently fine. In physical tests I am still in the top half of the class—that is, more than half of the young men in the class have worse physical fitness than I do. My memory is also good; my logical memory is even better than before. Many of my peers have presbyopia, but my eyesight is still good, with myopia under 100 degrees in both eyes.

The kind of "cliff-like aging" many people talk about, I have not yet experienced. I want to take advantage of these years while I can still learn, and study well the various things I wanted to learn when young. One only lives this one life; surely one must live it to the full to die without regret?