Transitions

I remember driving the non-air conditioned 1993 Volvo the 600 miles to my destination in complete solitude. The sun was blazing hot on the black leather seats, the windows down traveling 75 miles per hour. I was beginning a journey. A journey I had worked very long and hard to travel on; I was on my way to begin medical school. For the time being I had to leave behind the love of my life. I knew I would miss him and my family but also that the isolation from them was the best way for me to reflect and focus my attention. In parallel to my approach with most things in life, I was not apprehensive or nervous. I was merely excited, unaware of my naivety of the situation.

I have never felt I was a “natural” at anything, whether it was sports, academics, or arts. I persevered with hard work. Medical school presented a completely different challenge. I found myself in a pool of 250 of the smartest and most motivated people I have ever competed with. I was the underdog for the first time. Nothing has been more humbling. The enormity of information we were responsible for overwhelmed me. The night before the exam preparations were not going to cut it anymore. Another problem for me was the pace. I learn using endurance, not sprinting. Thriving off endurance while competing with a heap of sprinters in a 100 meter race doesn’t give much advantage, and I fell behind.

I would consider those first five months as a confidence swallowing battle that consumed every aspect of life. I was merely treading water, simply trying to stay afloat until the ship came. My ship rescued me in January and I began to swim again. My ship was my husband, Ryan. He is not the reason I began swimming again, but he gave me the will and purpose to. I do not think the curriculum of medical school got easier, but that I figured out how to manage it more efficiently. The race was now a marathon. Perhaps I adapted to make the game fit my strengths instead of playing it the way everyone else did. I had the advantage now; I knew how to run this race.

I was able to balance life again. I started to enjoy nature, I read books for my enjoyment, and I began cooking… Before I knew it, the first two years were over. I had gotten through it, though not entirely unscathed. I may have learned how to study more effectively, but progressively through those two years, life drained from me like a sieve. I did what I could to slow the process, but it’s difficult to completely prevent it. I would never do anything differently, however. The friends I have made are lifelong – we have a requited understanding of each other.

As the transition from the classroom to the wards has occurred, the life in me has slowly rejuvenated. I am energized by the patients yet plagued with the decision I must make in the next year on what specialty I want to go into. I hope the rotations will give me the insight I need to make the decision a natural one. The past two years have been a rollercoaster of emotions and tribulations, but I wouldn’t have it any different. Somehow I know this is where I was supposed to be, like some divine hand played a role. I am certain of it.

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We have been very busy the past few weeks. We got to take a weekend trip to Boston with Tim and Cindy, went to an underground brewery with Joe and Angela, and carved pumpkins. I start my surgery rotation on Monday and I will be assistant on four surgeries! I have a lot to read up on this weekend. I am very excited for this rotation, mostly for the novelty of it. I doubt I will go into surgery, but who knows, maybe this will change my mind.

♥ Raquel

Listening To: All I Ask For Anymore by Trace Adkins