Until now, Ive expressed my interest in the possibility of attending medical school to only a handful of people. Now its time to make it more public.
There. Ive said it. Im considering attending medical school.
No, not a desire to attend back when I was in college, but right now. Today. Throw my career away and start anew. No question this is a weighty decision to make. But before yall conclude that Ive really lost my mind, consider my story.
I originally went to college to study to become a doctor and enrolled as a biology major at the University of California, San Diego. At the time of my matriculation, graduates from there had the high medical school acceptance rate of any public university in the country. Id tested out of several basic science and mathematics requirements and was inspired by one particular high school biology teacher to pursue my ambitions. I dreamt often of working in faraway and impoverished places as a physician for Mdecins Sans Frontires (Doctors Without Borders) or maybe the Peace Corps, assisting in the survival of the most destitute in this world.
THURSDAY, JULY 28, 2005
Id forgotten just how much of a bureaucratic nightmare that colleges can be. Depending in the size of the organization, they rival death and the DMV as the Great Equalizers. You are shuffled about campus between departments that are set miles apart and stand in endlessly long lines with the rest of the poor schleps. We dont need you, I seemed to hear. So take a number and shut the fuck up.
Send in application to enroll. Apply for financial aid (not that Id expect any). Take placement exams. Schedule and meet with academic advisor (in person only, of course). Enroll in desired class(es), assuming space is available. Waitlist class(es) that are filled. Pay registration. Pay for parking. Purchase textbooks. Attempt to crash filled classes in a last ditched effort to enroll. Request for transcripts from previous university.
For fucks sake, I just want to take a class of trig!
Of course the left hand has no clue what the right hand is up to so forget any notions that departments communicate with one another. Hell, just forget about any notions that the people within their own departments communicate with one another.
My acceptance letter instructed me to contact Academic Advising prior to enrolling in any classes. So, after navigating a Byzantine maze of phone menus, Im finally placed in a queue for the next available operator. Much to my surprise, somebody almost immediately picks up the line.
Academic counseling, can you please ho spit out the voice before it was prematurely interrupted by a Muzak rendition to the theme song of Chariots of Fire. I tapped my pen against the desk with growing impatience.
ID BE THE HEART BUT I NEED THE BRAIN
In high school I qualified as a finalist for Stanford Medical Schools summer internship program. This was undoubtedly a very exciting opportunity for me to start learning the tools of the trade from the inside, and, at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. I could hardly stand the wait, but, a few weeks after submitting the required application, transcript, and essay, I was ecstatic to receive a letter stating that Id qualified as a finalist and would be granted a phone interview to determine my candidacy. I dont remember much of that interview, save for my lame response to one of those infernally meaningless questions only asked in interviews. The query was posed and the gauntlet thrown down: If you were any organ, what would you be?
It barely took a split second to realize that the only real answers were either the brain or the heart. How the hell do you explain that youd be the spleen or the appendix? The lungs, far too mediocre. And Ray Charles led a full life without the use of his eyes. I knew I had this nailed with such a ridiculously easy question. But, through my arrogance that tried to cover for my nervousness, I only barely mangled my way through some discombobulated explanation of how Id be the heart. The heart, after all, because not only is it the strongest muscle in the body but it cant work without the input of the brain.
The input of the brain?! What the hell does that mean?! It all started so well but then plummeted into some nightmarish intimation that I wanted to blaze a career path with Kaiser Permanente. With every subsequent word I uttered, I became increasingly obsessed with my slip, the input of the brain. Id be the heart but I need the input of the brain. I knew I was losing it, my mouth kept blathering, my wheels kept slipping, and I couldnt seem to recover.
Thank you Alexander, the interviewer concluded. Well be in touch.
But I didnt get the part. I walked away deflated and defeated.
To be continued
There. Ive said it. Im considering attending medical school.
No, not a desire to attend back when I was in college, but right now. Today. Throw my career away and start anew. No question this is a weighty decision to make. But before yall conclude that Ive really lost my mind, consider my story.
I originally went to college to study to become a doctor and enrolled as a biology major at the University of California, San Diego. At the time of my matriculation, graduates from there had the high medical school acceptance rate of any public university in the country. Id tested out of several basic science and mathematics requirements and was inspired by one particular high school biology teacher to pursue my ambitions. I dreamt often of working in faraway and impoverished places as a physician for Mdecins Sans Frontires (Doctors Without Borders) or maybe the Peace Corps, assisting in the survival of the most destitute in this world.
THURSDAY, JULY 28, 2005
Id forgotten just how much of a bureaucratic nightmare that colleges can be. Depending in the size of the organization, they rival death and the DMV as the Great Equalizers. You are shuffled about campus between departments that are set miles apart and stand in endlessly long lines with the rest of the poor schleps. We dont need you, I seemed to hear. So take a number and shut the fuck up.
Send in application to enroll. Apply for financial aid (not that Id expect any). Take placement exams. Schedule and meet with academic advisor (in person only, of course). Enroll in desired class(es), assuming space is available. Waitlist class(es) that are filled. Pay registration. Pay for parking. Purchase textbooks. Attempt to crash filled classes in a last ditched effort to enroll. Request for transcripts from previous university.
For fucks sake, I just want to take a class of trig!
Of course the left hand has no clue what the right hand is up to so forget any notions that departments communicate with one another. Hell, just forget about any notions that the people within their own departments communicate with one another.
My acceptance letter instructed me to contact Academic Advising prior to enrolling in any classes. So, after navigating a Byzantine maze of phone menus, Im finally placed in a queue for the next available operator. Much to my surprise, somebody almost immediately picks up the line.
Academic counseling, can you please ho spit out the voice before it was prematurely interrupted by a Muzak rendition to the theme song of Chariots of Fire. I tapped my pen against the desk with growing impatience.
ID BE THE HEART BUT I NEED THE BRAIN
In high school I qualified as a finalist for Stanford Medical Schools summer internship program. This was undoubtedly a very exciting opportunity for me to start learning the tools of the trade from the inside, and, at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. I could hardly stand the wait, but, a few weeks after submitting the required application, transcript, and essay, I was ecstatic to receive a letter stating that Id qualified as a finalist and would be granted a phone interview to determine my candidacy. I dont remember much of that interview, save for my lame response to one of those infernally meaningless questions only asked in interviews. The query was posed and the gauntlet thrown down: If you were any organ, what would you be?
It barely took a split second to realize that the only real answers were either the brain or the heart. How the hell do you explain that youd be the spleen or the appendix? The lungs, far too mediocre. And Ray Charles led a full life without the use of his eyes. I knew I had this nailed with such a ridiculously easy question. But, through my arrogance that tried to cover for my nervousness, I only barely mangled my way through some discombobulated explanation of how Id be the heart. The heart, after all, because not only is it the strongest muscle in the body but it cant work without the input of the brain.
The input of the brain?! What the hell does that mean?! It all started so well but then plummeted into some nightmarish intimation that I wanted to blaze a career path with Kaiser Permanente. With every subsequent word I uttered, I became increasingly obsessed with my slip, the input of the brain. Id be the heart but I need the input of the brain. I knew I was losing it, my mouth kept blathering, my wheels kept slipping, and I couldnt seem to recover.
Thank you Alexander, the interviewer concluded. Well be in touch.
But I didnt get the part. I walked away deflated and defeated.
To be continued
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[Edited on Jul 31, 2005 7:42PM]