Getting here...

Getting Here…

So August 8^th has finally arrived. It came on a lot quicker than I expected. I had meant to post a couple more blogs before beginning my journey down here in the United States, but with all the running around the last few weeks, I just couldn’t seem to find the time. So I plan to backtrack a bit in the next couple entries and recap the events leading up to today. For now though, I want to talk about the present, at least in part.

As a quick aside however; I realized looking back, that for those who don’t know me, when I said I was leaving everything behind in my first post, it wouldn’t make much sense without some context.

Let me explain. I was born in Ontario Canada and have lived there all my life. All my family and friends live there as well. However, I am now beginning to attend medical school in the States (I will not post the identity of the school, or its location, as this knowledge could eventually compromise the privacy of individuals who I may reference in this blog, though I will always do so in a vague, nondescript fashion).

The school I am attending is far enough away that it would be very difficult for me to go home every so often, assuming I had the time that is. The important thing is I am now a great distance from where I have lived my entire life, and all the people I care about.

This is why I said that the pursuit of this dream required leaving everything I know and love behind. It will definitely take some adjusting, as I am already beginning to miss the people back home. But I digress, now that I’ve clarified that, back to the present. 

Today was the first day of my week long orientation into medical school.  Up until today, it has all seemed sort of unreal. I almost expected I would go to sleep one night and when I woke up I would realize that I had not really gotten into med school and wasn’t moving away for four years.

Even after moving down here a couple days ago, I still couldn’t fully accept it. Today I think it is finally starting to sink in.

This afternoon, we were collected together for "roll call". One by one our names were called, and we were asked to briefly stand so they could ensure we were present. After they ran through the names of the entire class of 2015, the dean of admissions proceeded to congratulate us on the momumentous accomplishment of making it into med school. Instantly a chorus of clapping erupted, and in that moment it became real.

I have gotten into med school

I am now a med student

Given that I complete my studies, in four years I will be a doctor

Pretty amazing! Truly a moment I will always remember.

Along a similar vein; I am really looking forward to the white coat ceremony at the end of orientation. That symbolic gesture of “putting on” the medical profession as you don the white coat, or rather as the white coat is put on you by someone who has already completed the journey you are about to embark on.

Like a parent passing on an heirloom to their child once they have come of age, these doctors are placing their hope and faith in us that we can grow to become great future physicians.

I hope that I can live up to that lofty ideal as I continue on through med school, then residency, then fellowship and onwards into my career.

Now that I have babbled on for a full page or so, I should let you know that everything I have written so far isn’t really what this post is about.

As the title suggests, I want to write about getting here in the first place. I don’t mean the drive down, although that was an interesting adventure on its own, but rather the years leading up to me applying for medical school and being accepted. I began with the present, because I wanted to portray to you, as well as have fresh in my mind, what an honour it is for me to finally be attending med school.

It all began when I was 3 years old and heard my sister say she wanted to be a veterinarian when she grew up. I asked her what that was, and she explained that it was a doctor for animals. Partly because I looked up to her and wanted to be like her, and partly because I loved our dog Starra, I told her that I was going to be a veterinarian too. I know what you’re thinking, isn’t this supposed to be about med school? But wait, let me finish first.

My parents figured that along the way I would change my mind, my sister did. Yet throughout elementary and high school I never wavered on my decision to become a vet.

Going into university it was still my intention to pursue veterinary medicine, however in second year I began to lose all interest in school. For me, someone who has always been passionate about learning, it was a strange thing to be so apathetic about my studies.

There were some family problems that arose around this time, and I had thought that perhaps this was the cause. However, I had had to deal with family issues before this, and never before had it affected my academics.

So I continued trying to figure out what was wrong. It wasn’t until third year that I finally found some clarity, but as a result, my second year marks turned out to be the worst in my entire academic career.

The problem became apparent when I realized that it wasn’t school itself that I was apathetic too, but rather the goal I was working towards. For the first time in my life I realized I did not want to be a veterinarian. That is not to say that I was mistaken previously, but rather that my interests had shifted as I matured, and I realized that for me to be fulfilled, I needed to work more closely with people and have a greater impact in their lives. It was then that I decided to enter into the medical profession and become a doctor.

I wish I could say that it was simple from then on, but the truth was I knew very little about becoming a doctor. I had to scramble at the end of my third year to figure out all the details about how to apply and what is required and such. For those who don’t know, you need to apply a full year in advance of when you intend to begin medical school. So for someone who had just come to that realization, I was a bit unprepared.

I began to realize that if I had made the decision earlier, I could have taken advantage of my first and second years to get valuable volunteer and hospital experience. Yet even though I was lacking in some areas, at the end of third year I ended up applying to McMaster in Hamilton. They had a three year program, and at the time I felt I wanted to be done sooner than later. This would allow me to attend med school right after graduating fourth year, and so the timing seemed ideal.

About eight months later I received a letter in the mail informing me that I would not be invited for an interview and would no longer be considered for acceptance for the upcoming year. This was a difficult thing for me to deal with, as it was the first time in my life that I had had to deal with being rejected because my academics were not good enough.

I reminded myself that I had rushed to get the application done and that I would be better prepared next year, and would be able to apply to a greater number of schools as well. So in fourth year I made sure to get in some more volunteering and hospital related experience, though not only because I thought it would help my application. I have always enjoyed volunteering my time and energy for the benefit of others. It is a key aspect of what drew me towards medicine.

At the end of fourth I applied to 5 of the 6 medical schools in Ontario, and also applied for a one year Masters program through coursework to keep myself occupied for the coming year, and to hopefully strengthen my application should I need to reapply in the event that I not get in once again.

One by one the Ontario schools rejected me, until one of them invited me for an interview. I went for the interview, and despite it being my first, I felt it went very well. However, it must not have been good enough as I was subsequently rejected from there as well.

I will just put this out there now. I am stubborn, very stubborn. When I put it in my mind to really do something, it is very difficult to convince me otherwise. So nearing completion of my Masters, I once again applied, this time to several med schools in other provinces in Canada as well. After finishing up my degree I began to work in a lab full time, Once again awaiting the decision of the dreaded med school admissions committees who had control over my future and my sanity.

This time I did not even receive a single invitation to interview. For the first time since I had begun down the road to becoming a doctor, I began to seriously doubt whether or not I could actually achieve this goal. I began to doubt whether or not I was smart enough, or good enough, or strong enough. For a short period of time I came close to giving up, until I remembered how much I wanted this, until I remembered that this was the only thing I wanted to do with my life. So once more I decided to reapply. Fourth time is the charm right?

I figured if I was going to reapply, I was going to go for broke. I had tried to apply in Ontario, no luck there. I had tried Canada, no luck there. So now I was going to cast a bigger net. I applied to Canada, the US, the Caribbean and Ireland. In total I applied to 59 schools. Yup… 59. How much did it cost? Well I won’t go into specifics, but a lot. Am I crazy? Yes, most definitely. Anyone who is willing to do 59 applications, plus the additional 41 secondary applications for the 41 US schools I applied to, must be nuts. And if I wasn’t crazy before, let me tell you, completing 100 applications is enough to drive anyone insane. In truth it was closer to 95, as a few American schools did not send out a secondary, but 100 sounds much better. In addition, I reapplied to my old university to take organic chemistry, since I never did in undergrad (as Ontario schools and most others in Canada don’t require it).

What came of all my efforts? I received interviews to several schools in the Caribbean, and to 3 schools in the US. I was accepted at one Caribbean school, declined the rest, was waitlisted at two of the US schools and rejected by the last, post interview.

Finally my dream of becoming a doctor would be a reality. It would mean living in the middle of nowhere, with little chance of being able to come back to Canada to do a residency, but I didn’t care. I would do whatever it took to achieve the goal I had set out for myself.

So I got everything set up to go to the Caribbean school, including having my flight booked and paying first semester tuition, and the day after I wired the money to them I find out I got in off the waitlist to one of the US schools. I was shocked, overjoyed, overwhelmed and upset all at the same time. I had had it set in my mind I would be attending the Caribbean school, and now it would mean getting my money back, cancelling a non-refundable flight, and completing a whole new slew of paperwork to be able to attend this US school. Of course I did it though. It would mean standing a decent chance of getting a residency back in Canada rather than almost no chance, and it was closer to home. Not to mention that I actually really liked the school itself and program. Their outlook and philosophy is very much in line with who I am and who I want to be.

So when all is said and done, if I am to be honest, I failed. I failed, and then failed again and again before ever succeeding. If you want to put it in numerical terms of schools, then I failed over 70 times trying to pursue my dream. I am a failure. Yet I never gave up, never fully gave in to fear or doubt, and went to great lengths to achieve this goal that I feel will greatly enrich my life, and make me a better person. In the end I got to where I was going. So it isn’t the number of times that I fell down that I will remember, but rather the number of times I got back up, dusted myself off and kept going.

“Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.” ~Dale Carnegie