The Interview

This blog began with jubilation. I wanted to begin this journal of my medical education with its actual starting point: an acceptance. Until I held that letter from Emory in my hand, I was still premed, another college student praying that one day some school would find him worthy to become a physician. Now poised to begin the long journey to an MD, I can only feel excited and hopeful for the years ahead of me.

However, the road to acceptance wasn't jubilant or exciting, and the hope was mixed well with doses of despair. Had I blogged on September 16th of the previous year, I would have written defeated, as I teared up looking at my MCAT score. My chances of getting in to Duke, Harvard, or Emory, shattered. The months I waited to hear from any school felt like a weight on my shoulders, continually pushing me down. I've been "premed" since junior year of high school. It was almost seven years for that dream to be realized, and towards the end, the pressure got to me. It affected my mood, my confidence, and even my relationships with my peers. I have always said that knowing what you want to do for a living at a young age is a mixed blessing. Any failure along the way has been disastrous for me.

So these next few entries will actually be the prequel to The Language of Medicine. I will take you though the preparation, nerves, and finally, interview day itself. On essentially the final day of interview invitations, yesterday I was offered one at Duke. It was a day of mixed emotions, as I helped bring two Trauma Ones to Duke ER. Driving to Duke has been a constant reminder of the place I wanted to attend so badly, yet never thought I would even be given a chance. I brought a homeless 8 year old child to the hospital for respiratory distress, then found out later that one of my Duke transports passed away. And it was only late last night that I found out that my interview with Duke was scheduled to be in the middle of our last family vacation. I hope to reschedule, but if there is no other interview days, I will have to make a tough choice between my family and my future. Unfortunately, I know this will not be the last time I have to make that choice, and I dread the slippery slope that path might take me.

But yet again I find myself jubilant, excited, and hopeful, this time for my last interview. And I look for to hopefully celebrating one more time, a celebration of acceptance. One that will bring extra vindication to my life and journey to becoming a physician.

So stay tuned.