My life looks very different now than what it did 5 weeks ago. And, 5 weeks before that, I was in another galaxy. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but these last couple months have been more of a startling transition than going from college and a summer off to matriculating the first year of medical school. I will say though, this transition has brought much more enjoyable changes.
So let’s start back at the end of April/beginning of May during board exam preparations when I deleted every social media app and other time-sucking things from my life and moved in with my best med school friends; it simultaneously became a huge load off my back having awesome roommates and being in a more nurturing place at home, but then it got a whole lot more stressful because Macy and I needed to buckle down and study. Hard.
This was 6 weeks before my big test, and classes were already over to give us time to study for boards on our own. (Before I go on, for all you non-medical people- passing this test is crucial to moving onto your “clinical” years of medical school and an absolute necessity for getting the big D.O. after my name. Residency programs look at this test score and assess your worthiness, and if getting into medical school isn’t hard enough, I daresay this was about 437 times harder than anything I had to do to get in.) Anyway, I took a practice test that the school required we take to make sure we were ready to take the exam and pass it.
I was not at a passing score at that test, 5 weeks out from D-day. I’ve debated writing about it because it feels like a big deal to talk about scores. This test and the months of preparation leading up to it are such a big part of my life right now and no one shares their scores except with the closest of people. Still, I want to share at least some of my story for the same reasons- because it is such a big part of my life and I learned so much.
I was devastated about this practice test score for days. I curled up in my mom’s lap and cried. My dad bought me a Quiktrip pretzel and told me to take a step back and maybe talk to the school about pushing everything back a few months. I cried to an attending physician in his office- the medical school equivalent to calling your teacher “mom”. Still, I decided to buckle down and move forward as planned and the plan was to pass at all costs.
I knew balance was key and I needed to stay sane with breaks and hobbies, etc, but I also wasn’t stupid. I knew my “studying status quo” of cooking a nice dinner, running 4-6 miles 5 times a week and taking Netflix breaks- even without the social media- wasn’t going to cut it. With a very important deadline, some more sacrifices had to be made.
I think I ran a total of four times in that last month. I watched one 22 minute show at the end of my study days. I started drinking Ensure nutrition shakes for meals. I lost 20 pounds in the 6 months before my boards, which is not a healthy amount for me by the way. I gave my dog back to my mom for a number of weeks. I went to an 8-5 board review class and stayed. awake. for. the. whole. entire. week. I hit the books hard and cried and panicked and learned more than I have ever learned in my entire life. I was also very miserable and alone for the majority of every single day for those six weeks.
I took two more practice tests before my exam, and I surprised myself, getting significantly better each time. I didn’t really know what to expect as far as what kind of progress was possible that close to a test date, but I did it. As well as I was doing, my anxiety lurked in the shadows during every minute I wasn’t studying. I would go get dinner with Dru and inside my heart was pounding, saying “You’re going to fail because you didn’t bring your book with you.” In the shower every night, “You don’t deserve a break with scores this low.” Laying in bed, biting my lips until they bled, texting my family and anyone else that would listen to try to get any sort of 5 second reassurance where I didn’t feel like I was going to vomit my esophagus up into my mouth. The harder I studied, the more I feared I would not pass.
Being naturally high strung, having anxiety, and a having healthy dose of fierce test anxiety to boot, I fully expected to need a dart gun to feel calm on test day. The night before, I took a Benadryl and a melatonin at 6 PM just to cover my bases. I added an ice pack on my head and a heating pad on my feet for good measure. I was out by 7:30PM. I woke up that next day and grabbed my packed lunch and rode with Macy to the testing center as we were taking it on the same day. I felt like everything was going to be okay. I got low on time during the first four hours, and I had never needed extra time before. Still, I didn’t feel nauseous. Even during lunch, when my mind was able to wander, I didn’t ever feel like it wasn’t going to be okay like I had been feeling for the past 6 weeks. Macy and I finished and went home- together, relieved, overwhelmed and exhausted- where my sweet boyfriend had cleaned my house and got me a couple precious happy gifts. Still, it would be another 6 weeks before I knew for sure I could take a breath.
In that 6 weeks I spent a lot of wonderful, mostly stress-free time with my family, roomies, and Dru. I learned Advanced Cardiac Life Support. Some of us went to the lake and saw lots of med school friends that we hadn’t really been able to let loose with really since orientation before first year. It was sweet, sweet relief to my tired, studied-out soul. Memories were made that I know I’ll cherish forever.
And then we started rotations. Possibly the most daily rewarding thing I’ve ever been privileged to be a part of. This useless noggin full of jumbled up, color-coded notes and random lectures finally has a use and can make heads or tails out of what’s actually wrong with my patients! (most of the time.) It is much easier to read medical things at night and on the weekends while being able to put a real patient’s face to the condition I need to learn more about.
I got my scores back last week and I was mostly pleased with the results. In my Type A hindsight, I like to think I could have done more and gotten an even better score by tweaking some of my preparation, but I do I know I did my best and really got a much needed confidence boost out of finding out that my best was good enough this time. Medical education can be extremely taxing in the self-doubt department and make you feel like you’re failing all around because it is so all-encompassing, all-consuming. This was not one of those times.
If you didn’t want to read the whole thing and scrolled down to the end here; I can really sum it all up by saying how extremely blessed I am to be in a career with these sorts ups and downs. Where the rewards are that much sweeter because of the trials. I can focus now on being the face-to-face, compassionate, knowledgable, doctor now that that pesky test is in my past; thank you Jesus.
I’m also lucky because of everyone that brought me meals (thanks, mom), sent me encouraging texts, cupcakes, edible arrangements, Starbucks, and hugs. My roommates really pulled together and helped me get through, while also studying and working really hard themselves. My family prayed for me and supported me emotionally and financially and recruited others to pray as well. My school faculty and classmates supported me and gave encouragement, resources, advice and kicks in the pants where needed. Dru loved me, taught me a lot of test material, and listened to me whine repeatedly; he did dishes, cooked meals and absolutely knocked his own test out of the park all at the same time.
I don’t remember where I read it or if it popped in my head or where I got it, but somewhere along the line, I told my family that I had a mantra for this seemingly insurmountable test. I started telling myself “You are overestimating the problem and underestimating yourself.” It sounds crazy at this point in my life that I would still be crippled at times with self-doubt and confidence when it comes to my ability to belong to this schooling and eventual career, but I do. Even after I got accepted to medical school, if you had asked me to look at a future hologram snapchat video of me seeing patients competently and happily coasting into the start of third year in July 2016, I would have said an incredulous, dumbfounded, “No, that can’t be me.”
It blows my mind, in the best of ways.
Tag: family
Categories
2nd Year Rut
I wanted this blog to be real. Honest. No sugar coating it.
Med school sucks sometimes. There I said it.
Its three days into a new semester and I’ve already hit a wall so hard that I can’t even sleep. Usually when I don’t want to study, I can sleep, or at least binge watch something while simultaneously “candy crushing” until sleep finds me. Here I am, though- its 2 AM and I’m Facebook stalking pictures of myself while I was in college, feeling sorry for myself.
Something is off. And it has been for a while.
I feel happy each day. I wake up, I eat, I laugh, I study, I see my friends, I sleep. Even my family is always close by when I need them.
But, after looking at my own pictures on my feed, I see I’m not even the girl I was a year ago. That girl was “pinch me” happy to be in medical school. That girl lived to go into school each day and learn. That girl was running everyday. She loved going out, even on weeknights- regardless of the sleep she’d lose- just to be with her new friends, gain the life experiences.
I loved my first year of medical school. It changed my life in all aspects for the better.
Shortly after first year started, an older gentleman in a restaurant overheard me using “first year” and “second year” terminology and leaned over and said “You must be in law school, using those words.” I smiled and proudly said, “No sir, I’m in medical school.”
“My mistake,” he smiled, “Congratulations then.” My “thank you” to him was heartfelt and beaming with pride. I was passionate that I was finally where I had wanted to get to all these years.
Last year, it was this all-consuming-love-of-my-life and I couldn’t talk about anything else because I was so enthralled.
Now, I’m this 15lb. heavier zombie, dragging my sedentary body around with my arms in front of me growling and yelling “SLEEP!!!! Where is my sleep?” and feeding on any friends and family nearby, sucking them into my darkness whenever possible.
I don’t want anything to do with going to class or shoving any more knowledge into my haggard, feeble, and engorged brain. Hanging out with friends? Forget about it. The first thing I do after class is come home, throw my jeans on the floor and sit in bed. I study when I have to and do anything else besides school that I can find when I don’t have to.
My best friend asks me how school is going “Horrible,” I say. “can we talk about something else?”
So tell me, which girl do you want to be your doctor in a few years?
I’m not the type to squander this opportunity. I truly, deeply want you to know that I know I should be more grateful. I know I am extremely privileged to be able to pursue this profession. I just happen to feel like its costing me a lot in this season of my life. I know these feelings are normal too. I know I’m human, but I hate the fact that I am already this burned out and broken down by my medical education. It’s hard, though. Its hard to go back to the honeymoon phase when you’ve seen medical school in the light of day.
When you’ve had to miss birthday parties.
When you’ve had to tell your nieces that you can’t make it to dinner.
When your jaw is throbbing from clenching it when stressed.
When you miss those concerts with your friends.
When you feel 80 years old for wanting to sleep at 7:30 PM and you are only 23.
When you have to start studying for a $600 test 6 months in advance.
When you want to be active and run and play and shop and dance and stay up until 5AM with your girlfriends.
When you want to be sore and tired from all the things you did that day, but instead you are sore from sitting on your leg too long and you have a hand cramp from writing too much and you are tired from straining your eyes.
All for a potential illness you have not yet learned in a future patient you have not met, in a clinic you cannot picture. There’s no such thing as instant gratification in med school. I have only a far off hope that someday, some rewarding case will instantly make it all worth while. Do you see what I mean?
In undergrad, I was very wary to not use the term burned out whenever I was frustrated because I knew how much longer I had to go.
But this…there is no other word for this than burn-out. I flailed through last semester and faked it til I made it but three days in to my second semester of my second year and I am having some serious trouble.
The worst part is- I don’t have a solution.
I’m struggling. I’m doing my best. I try to find the good. I don’t let comparisons to my awe-inspiring friends and classmates steal my joy. I stay disciplined to my studies. I keep my head down and work. I just keep swimming.
I guess I know I’m doing something right when I wouldn’t trade this crappy 2nd year rut, for any other experience anywhere else.
What a fun couple days it has been. It feels like its been a week since I’ve posted!
So orientation on the first day included a big volunteer event they do every year mostly run by students. They split us up into groups and we went around Tulsa to various organizations and helped them out with whatever they needed. I met a lot of great people and laughed a ton! The school fed us breakfast and lunch and gave us a volunteer t-shirt! Woo! I love new t-shirts.
The second year’s put on a mock lecture to show us what NOT to do. They crumpled chip bags, asked “Will this be on the exam?” repeatedly to the professor, had their cell phones playing youtube videos during class, one guy even brought a freakin’ blender and turned it on in the lecture hall. It was pretty dang funny. It felt like a very OBU thing to do, so I was glad to see them having fun and being ridiculous about it.
Overall, the experience felt a little like camp, but I was glad for the relaxing environment to get to know people in and truly enjoyed getting to know my classmates. I picked up my white coat and scrubs they give us for free, and then went home where (some) of my nieces were waiting for me. My family and I went out to dinner and then shopping that evening so it was a great day in my books!
this idea to take a “first day of school picture” was given to me as a joke sort of by my own doctor but I actually think its a good idea to see how much more haggard my appearance gets each year 🙂 My mom thought it was cute too of course!
The white coat ceremony was a blast. And if I hadn’t been so crazy giddy about the whole experience actually occurring, I would have cried. I thought the ceremony was extremely well done. It felt official but still warm and friendly. They filed us in to the auditorium after the audience was seated and just walking in with my white coat draped over my arm, I got the warm fuzzies and just felt extremely accomplished. We were joking around in line saying how the whole ceremony feels so misguided since all we have done thus far is gone to ONE DAY of orientation. But still, it gets you excited about what is to come and builds your confidence and pride. My sister Stacie in Arizona was watching the live stream online which made me extremely happy, and Zach and Jenna both got to come to watch. I have the best family and friends!
It was pretty hilarious once I was “coat-ed” to watch the struggle that is having-someone-else-put-your-jacket-on-you. You’d think it would be easy, but it most certainly is not. You have to shake their hand, give them your jacket, slip into it while they’re holding it out, fix your hair after, take a picture, say thank you… its exhausting and requires a great deal of focus. So much so that I don’t remember walking across the stage because I was so focused on making my fine motor skills work properly at each little step of the process. Hopefully mine looked smooth. I do remember that I was ready to take the picture, but the professor was still fixing my collar. Oh well. Whatever trauma it caused me was gone when I took the Oath and filed out to more applause. I still feel warm and happy inside!
My posse and I went out to brunch afterwards, so I was fine by then.
Here are some pictures!
FRIENDS!
MOM!
NIECES
EEEKKK! It’s one week until orientation. Everything is coming hard and fast and best of all, I feel ready. My summer checklist is all but crossed off. I got back into decent running shape- I did 25 miles last week! The study room is done. I got new school grown up clothes. I rested, and enjoyed my family and friends.
It’s weird that this is the last week ever in my life that I will NOT have been to medical school! How many people can say that they’ve been to medical school? Probably millions but it sounds pretty crazy to me!
Still, next week this time will be very busy and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous!
This weekend though, is this girl’s birthday!
She’s not this little anymore but it feels like just yesterday I was making her first birthday cake!
But now she’s this gorgeous, sassy, little sweetheart and I’m making her fifth birthday cake!
I love you Julie. Happy Birthday!
Categories
4th of July Weekend
I’m sitting in the bathroom talking to you nice folks, while supervising the bath time of a very sleepy 4-and-a-half year old. I had a very fun and relaxing fourth of July weekend. These little girls often put things in perspective for me. Throughout the week, I chase down a to-do list, that- as soon as I cross off one thing I add another- is often full of not-so-important things. Yet, I treat it like my life’s work. And, while it is important to get my oil changed and renew my passport before school starts, I forget that I’m supposed to be relaxing before medical school and not stressing these mundane things. The little ones that I’m so lucky to call my nieces always call me back to what’s important by forcing me to take a break to cuddle and listen about their lives, play in their imaginary world for a while, and not worry about my list or school just yet. (Right now they pretend to be the princesses left at home by their kings while they go to fight the king’s war)
I didn’t take any photos of the gorgeous fireworks or the cookout, but I had a pretty hilarious silly-photo selfie shoot of which I will share gratuitous amounts of grainy iPhone pictures.
pssst…. doonthego.me (no longer “.wordpress.com”) will launching soon, so be on the lookout!
ppppppsssssttt… the study room I have posted about here and here, is almost done! Just waiting on some final items to be ordered so look out for that too.
I worry about big things, like about the future. I worry about small things, like about not finishing all the summer reading I wanted. I worried when I was 9 and had no legitimate concerns. I worry now when every decision feels so pertinent. I worry about serious things like the environment. I worry about stupid things like having white teeth.
I worry about my family. I worry for their health and happiness. I worry about about their worries. I worry about their sadness. I worry about their foot fungus. I worry about their flaky patches of skin. I worry about their backs, their diets, their sore throats. I worry about my sisters. I worry about depression returning, looming in the sky like a big thunderhead that just passed over us. I worry about my nieces. I worry for them because its so hard to be a girl. I worry because its so hard to grow up and grow up right. I worry because things go wrong. I worry for them because there are hurts I can’t hide from them. I worry that they will see my worry because I want them to know how blessed they are and I’m worried my worry will make them think otherwise. I worry about them when I start medical school. I worry that they’ll think I won’t have time for them.
I worry about my friends. I worry that I’ll disappoint them. I worry that they won’t get everything they want for their lives. I worry about the hurt they will have to endure if they don’t. I worry about love. I worry that I don’t have a clue. I worry that I won’t have time to have a family. I worry that I’m not good enough. I worry that I’m screwing up. I worry that things won’t work out even though I know they will.
I worry about medical school. I worry that I’ll flunk out. I worry that I won’t make friends or won’t have time to. I worry that I’m not cut out for it. I worry that I’ll be incompetent or embarrass myself. I worry that I won’t like it. That I won’t want to study. I worry that I’ll worry more than I already do. I worry that it won’t be everything I wanted it to be. I worry that I will have done all this for nothing. I worry that I’ve made my non-existent career more important than people.
I worry about cancer. I worry about diabetes. I worry about heart disease. I worry about death and disease. I worry about pregnant women. I worry about babies. I worry about obesity. I worry about families. I worry about women in more dire circumstances than I can even imagine. I worry about our nation’s healthcare system. I worry about mental illness. I worry about people who don’t know better. I worry about people that do know better. I worry about vaccines. I worry about abortion. I even worry about the overuse of antibacterial hand soap. I worry about the food we put in our mouths. I worry about business, ethics, medicine, politics, immigration, gender roles, and society because all these things play into our health. I worry that we won’t be able to fix it all. I worry that I won’t even be able to do my part.
I worry that the worries I have listed here don’t even scratch the surface of what I worry about. I worry that I won’t ever stop worrying. I worry that someday the burdens I have for people, the stress that I feel will shut me down into a deep dark place, like I’ve seen worry do to people before.
But most of all, I worry that someday I won’t worry about these things anymore.
I’ve posted about being an aunt before and you can read about my five nieces on my family page, but this is more of a separate issue that irks me.
Disclaimer: Perhaps there are different community/family/church/whatever dynamics that I have not experienced. I would certainly not want someone to never experience the joy of a family bond even if their mom, dad, aunt, brother, etc. was not blood-related. I have also had friends whose family was like a second home to me and I have had friends that jokingly walked into my house and said “Hi Mom” to my mom, but here’s what I’m thinking.
As an aunt, I would find it offensive for someone else- to call my girls their niece. It would discredit my bond with them, especially as an aunt who lives far away from them. Especially when they are young, its hard enough for them to understand that I am their mommy’s sister and that Gramma and Grandpa are our Mom and Dad, and how important those bonds are. It hasn’t happened to me that I’m aware, I just think it would make me sad.
I would liken it to someone telling a friend that they were their “sister” in front of their real sister. “Like a sister”, would be more true. I would be fine if the girls said someone “was like an aunt to them.” I would be happy that they had so many people in their life that love them like I do. But there is something about saying someone is blatantly “your brother, your aunt, etc.” People that don’t know any better instantly relate that person to the meaning of a family bond and its not true.
Maybe I’m being petty and jealous, but just from a loving, young, cool aunt’s perspective-
parents- watch who you let your kids call family and
friends of people with kids- watch what you ask those kids to call you
And now I’m interested to see how other aunts out there and my sisters feel about this.
Here it is folks. The last remnants of my senior year of college. Woah.
My sisters, mom, and I did most of the party prep ourselves. We ordered 20 ml Lure-Loc syringes, a set of 3 Ehrlenmeyer flasks, 50 urine sample cups, and a set of 6 plastic beakers all from Amazon and tried to incorporate a science/medical theme throughout the party.
Edited pictures of other things from my “medical theme” will go up tomorrow evening. My stomach is full and my heart is happy from the party and being with family and friends! I have another busy summer week up ahead but the posts should be more regular as I get into a routine after my trips are over.
I hope everyone’s weekend is going well.
And as promised, here is the Pinterest fail version of what I posted about yesterday.
Nailed it! Not.
Special thanks to my mama and my sisters for helping prep for the party.
We got back from our camping trip and had a lot of fun. Two things.
1/Everything takes forever with kids.
2/Kids make it more fun.
The sun was hot, the water felt good, and I’m now more thankful for things like toilets, netflix, and chapstick always being close at hand. Those survival reality shows where you strand yourself out in the heat somewhere? Yeah, I wouldn’t make it a day without shade and chapstick.
I had several halfway done projects at home waiting for an empty house (read: no crazy nieces running rampant around here)- so I was sort of preoccupied with getting back to my regular boring life of failed pinterest projects- when I got the following message and realized that my amazing Chicago road trip with Dani is like 5 days away. Woah. I don’t even know what it is in Chicago that I want to do!
I did some preliminary research and discovered that I probably should have started doing this months ago. For one thing, our hotel’s parking is $65. Another problem is that pretty quickly I read that driving/parking in downtown is pretty impossible. And… dun dun dun… everything we are doing is in downtown. Our concert venue and hotel are in walking distance, but there ISN’T ANY WAY IN ANY WORLD THAT I WOULD PAY $65 TO PARK MY CAR. I found some parking apps that give places to park a bit cheaper, but I have no idea how their public transportation works (or if its safe or for poor people like it is here) so I’m sort of freaking. There are a lot of logistics to work out.
It’s weird seeing the difference in family vacations versus now planning my own. When I’m with my family, I do zero planning, zero logistics, I don’t even think I helped cook the food. I’m just this awkward semi-adult floater that doesn’t play like a kid or pitch in like an adult. Oops. Now with my own, I don’t mind getting super prepared, printing all the tickets, calling ahead for reservations, and figuring out where the heck a girl’s supposed to park.
You can see it as good or bad. Maybe I’m finding out that I can take care of the details well on my own. Or maybe it means that I’m lazy and only do it when forced and no one else is there to do it for me. Whichever way, I guess we’ll see how this road trip goes and then decide if I’m capable.
Who knows, I may spend all my money on parking and not be able to make it home.
And, speaking of failed pinterest projects… check in tomorrow to see some pics of my graduation party.
Hint… I tried to make these
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