I’ve had my fair share of existential crises this year, but my most recent developed Thursday night in Newcomb Hall room 389. Sitting around a conference table at 7 p.m., a man stood up front in a blue polo with “Kaplan” embroidered on the chest. The sudden reintroduction of the famous test-prep agency brought me shocking flashbacks of SAT boot camps and practice exams. This time though was for the real-deal. A non-descript PowerPoint with the words “MCAT Challenge” stared back at me. As part of my pre-medical fraternity, we were given the opportunity to sign up for a short crash course on the MCAT.
Naturally, as the ambitious first-year I am, I signed up right away — despite the test being three or four years away. With a disconcertingly husky voice, the man went slide after slide, rapidly explaining medical school applications, how intensely difficult it was and how many hundreds of thousands of dollars would be spent in the process. With each click of the computer mouse, my stomach sunk a little deeper. SAT boot camp looked mighty appealing compared to this.
One slide read in bold-type, “What are Med Schools Looking For?” Apparently, med schools are looking for mini-Albert Einsteins who have discovered a new nano-particle, traveled to Papua New Guinea and saved people from burning buildings, have flawless GPAs and MCAT scores and are also quite charming and normal people. I took a quick self-assessment. I am not Albert Einstein. I have not been to Papua New Guinea. My GPA is anything but flawless, and my future MCAT scores probably won’t be either. I’m not even charming and I’m definitely not normal. Sure, I can guess that my roommate has a cold and give her some DayQuil, but can I really be a doctor? We took a twenty-minute practice MCAT, and it was laughable. Not because the questions were so easy, but because I literally knew nothing.
Since childhood, I have never really thought of being anything other than a doctor. Sure I’ve half-jokingly speculated about opening my own bakery / bookstore / pottery shop, but my dream has always been to be a doctor. I am fascinated with the endless possibility of medicine. I am drawn to the challenge that medicine presents — the challenge to cure every disease and infirmity. I am driven by the many people I have seen who so desperately need healthcare but don’t have access to it. But can fascination and drive really be enough?
So much of med school applications seemed to revolve around who you knew to give you that extra boost in a letter of recommendation. They emphasize the interview — selling yourself in a desperate hope that they thought you were impressive enough. So much revolved around what you have accomplished to prove you are worthy to be a doctor. My naturally self-deprecating being shies away from that world of schmoozing and grandiloquence. Sure I am fascinated by medicine, but do I really want to put myself through years and years of interviews and self-aggrandizing? Already my fascination has waned in light of the daunting years of pre-med ahead.
I think at the heart of the matter, I fear that I don’t have what it takes. My entire family and high school believed that out of all the people in the world, surely I would be capable of becoming a doctor. Now that I’m in it though, I’m not so sure.
I know I’m not alone in this matter. I’ve spoken to so many others, pre-med or not, who fear that they will not have what it takes, that they will not be enough, to do this or be that. It’s heartbreaking to think that our childhood dreams might not actually come true — and not because the world is against us, but because we aren’t good enough. Honestly I don’t want to sugarcoat things and say that’s not true. In reality, not everyone will achieve their career goals and aspirations.
But if I’ve learned anything in college, it’s that failures are not permanent set-backs. As the old adage goes, “as one door closes, another opens.” Never has this clichéd saying felt more true than in my first year of college.
Perhaps my deepest fears will come true and I will discover I can’t actually go to med school or maybe I’ll realize I don’t actually want to. As nerve-wracking and crisis-inducing as this could be, I know that looking back I’ll be glad for the failure.
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