Non-physicians sometimes think of physicians as a different breed. They speak an odd language, their handwriting is indecipherable, they put us through the most unusual physical rituals, and they sometimes act like condescending jerks.

Fortunately, the latter refers to a minority of doctors.

If you've been unfortunate enough to have been treated by one of them, rest assured that doctors sometimes treat one another the same way.

But your typical doctor started off as a fairly normal person.

When I met my classmates at the beginning of med school at UBC, none of them looked or acted like doctors. Though most of them were overachievers, had an A average and played some musical instrument, in other respects they were like average people.

There are certain personality characteristics common among medical students. Obsessive-compulsive traits (though not necessarily the obsessive compulsive anxiety disorder itself) are common and actually helpful in medicine.

You'd want your physician to be certain that he got all his facts straight and that he checked the dose of your medication. I would prefer a surgeon who was compulsive about attending to the last bleeding blood vessel and accounted for every instrument and sponge before she closed me up at the end of an operation.

Pre-med students, vying for the limited spots in med schools, are competitive and sometimes cutthroat. In undergrad science, I recall a number of classmates I helped who never reciprocated. For some reason, they were all female. That probably had a lot more to do with my own biases in my early 20s than any characteristics of women who pursue medicine as a career.

That competitiveness remained prominent in a number of my classmates and continues to some extent in practising physicians.

We still tend to judge ourselves in comparison to our peers. Non-comforting to both physician and non-physician is the old riddle, "What do you call the guy who graduates at the bottom of his med school class?" The answer: "Doctor."

My class was the first at UBC with a majority of women.

This was a great education for some of the more chauvinistic professors who learned to tailor their language and biases and never to refer to women as girls.

My class was multicultural, of various faiths and spanned the spectrum of sexual orientation.

Most of us were in our early 20s, but some were in their 30s and even 40s. Most were single (and some were on the prowl on nursing units), but a significant number were married. Some had children, and one classmate gave birth during the four years.

Most were interested in helping people; some valued status and money.

Some were more focused on medical science and procedures.

One classmate was downright misanthropic, but she didn't make it to graduation.

Some were a little odd but became doctors anyway.

Most of my classmates were health-conscious, but not all were living healthy lives.

Though we would all eventually be sleep-deprived, stressed and caffeine-dependent, some of my classmates were overweight, drank too much or smoked.

So this was the cross-section of humanity that entered med school.

During our training, the culture of medicine would change all of us, resulting in the doctors who treat you today.

Coming up: How Medical School Changes Us.

Dr. Davidicus Wong is a family physician. His Healthwise column appears regularly in this paper and his internet radio show can be heard on www.pwrnradio.com.