I Simply Could Not Help Myself

Where Am I Going Again?

As I mentioned on twitter this afternoon, when I pack I am sort of like a dog circling a spot before lying down. Only my ritual seems to involve spinning around for hours. Packing has the tendency to flare up an attention deficit problem and I find myself vacuuming, baking, cleaning my hard drive, flossing, and online shopping while stuffing random articles into my suitcases.

This trip home is exciting and a little unsettling at the same time. I haven't been back to Canada for Christmas since 2008 so naturally I am looking forward to watching some crisp moonlight snowfalls with the Nana Mouskouri Christmas album playing in the background. I can't wait to see my mom, Tobie, his family, my good friend Liz...the Arab grocery store in Montréal that I love.

The unsettling part is that I don't know how long I am going for, and where I'll be for January. It is a little difficult to pack when you don't know if you'll be spending a month in Arizona or Nunavut, a GP office or an O.R. We're talking a lot of variety here. Heels? Hikers? Nylons? Blouses? Scrubs? Sneaks? Not to mention which books I'd bring based on the place / rotation. I am still trying to arrange something but my most recent lead is looking unlikely now as well. I found out this week that I also didn't get any electives at the University of Ottawa for the summer. Have I mentioned that I am tired of feeling like a medical pariah an outcast? Is this blog post turning into a pity party? Maybe...

So now, instead of coming back to Ireland at the end of January it looks like I might be flying straight back after New Years. Sigh. I just want an opportunity to learn, and to get some hands-on experience.  It is really disheartening to constantly feel doors close in my face when I am working hard and putting myself out there. It is true that at every turn medicine asks, how badly do you want this??

OK. That is enough whining. 


On a happier note...the ginger cake that I made today turned out beautifully. I may be turning a corner in this whole baking thing. Yes, yesterday my kitchen did look like I'd had a seizure in it while holding a bag of baking soda and I probably ate 4000 calories of "broken" brownies oh I can't bring the broken ones to the Christmas party...but with each event the baking part gets a little easier and the results get a little more edible. Maybe I should try to get an elective at a pasty school...hmmm...

Another Charming Trend in Medicine

"IMG" means "International Medical Graduate". As in, anyone who studied medicine outside of Canada and wants to do post-graduate studies in Canada.

Did I mention there are 45 Canadians in my medical class alone?

Dare I delve into how many of those 6.5% matched to something other than internal or family medicine?

Hello, Ireland. Need a doctor?

Last Minute Trip

I performed some shift-swapping wizardry this week to have 5 days off in a row and had originally planned to visit Haida Gwaii. One of the nurses has a guest house there and offered it to me for free for the week. But the long ferry ride and logistics of more time alone in a beautiful new place just wasn't as appealing as when I first dreamed up the idea. Frankly, I have spent a lot of time alone in amazing landscapes and I'm at a place where I like sharing those experiences with people I love now, be it friend or partner. Tobie has never been to the West Coast (I know, how is it possible??) so I decided to save that gem of a location for us to discover together at a later date.

Instead I drained the last of my aeroplan miles and booked a flight to Vancouver to visit my best friend, K.B. She and I have been connected in this world since the time when we both had all of our baby teeth. We were those friends who wore matching outfits and went to summer camp together. She was the one I first snuck booze with from my parent's cupboard, the one whose Barbie mansion I envied, and the one whose trampoline I spent most of my summer on every year. 

As 'grown ups' she and her husband were among the friends who took me in during a difficult breakup, and let me use their spare room as a home base during a year of travel nursing gigs. She also did half of my paper work for medical school applications when I was away in India. 

I studied all summer for the MCAT on her deck and trained with her for my Himalayan adventure. 

It was K.B who knew my MCAT score before I did. I had a connection in Singapore where I was able to check my email and she had sent me the note titled "CONGRATS!" 

She is a big part of the reason I am in medical school today. If they had not been so generous with their home I would have never had the chance to study and prepare as much as I did for both the MCAT and application process. They are two people in a large cast of characters who have brought me to this place, from my Revelstoke family to my genetically linked family in AB to my near-and-dears scattered all over this crazy world. 

I have been so lucky to have such wonderful support on this wild dream-chasing adventure. As I sit here on her deck once again, one year of medical school behind me,  I am brought back to the summers of 2008 and 2009. Often during those muggy days I felt completely lost, with a future that seemed so unbelievably uncertain.  They listened to me cry and witnessed a lot of teeth gnashing, but there was also a lot of laughter and delicious meals, days shopping for things like the perfect salt for a spice rub, and Saturday morning latté conversations. 

I'm so happy that I decided to come here for a tiny holiday, even if I just sit on this deck for the next 3 days. The disequilibrium I used to feel in this chair is gone. 

Here's to friends who have been along for the ride, and being back in my happy place!

For Keith

Ok. I know I promised that I was going to let go of all the rejection letter baggage...BUT my dear friend Anna B sent me this email, which reminded me of my friend Keith's comment a few weeks ago.

I had to post it. It amused me greatly. Hee hee.

----

Herbert A. Millington
Chair - Search Committee
412A Clarkson Hall, Whitson University
College Hill, MA 34109

Dear Professor Millington,

Thank you for your letter of March 16. After careful consideration, I regret to inform you that I am unable to accept your refusal to offer me an assistant professor position in your department.

This year I have been particularly fortunate in receiving an unusually large number of rejection letters. With such a varied and promising field of candidates, it is impossible for me to accept all refusals.

Despite Whitson's outstanding qualifications and previous experience in rejecting applicants, I find that your rejection does not meet my needs at this time. Therefore, I will assume the position of assistant professor in your department this August. I look forward to seeing you then.

Best of luck in rejecting future applicants.

Sincerely,
Chris L. Jensen

Subject Heading: Regrets

Ok. Not to belabor the point...but the final nail in the coffin of medical school rejection's from Canada arrived last Friday.

I must commend the University of Toronto for having the email subject heading, "Regrets".

YES!!

THAT is what I am TALKING ABOUT!!

No, not the rejection part, but the clear, concise let down. I hadn't even thought of "regrets" for a subject heading as the quickest-band-aid-removal for "what is the email from admissions going to say?"

Sigh. U of T, you complete me.

Well you don't. But your PFO email style does.

Comments of the Week

Well...another 2 rejections came my way this week. The last one came Friday afternoon as I was sleeping off my night shift. I saw the blinking LED on my phone and took a quick glance at the email. Yep. Another resounding "you did not qualify for an interview".

I muttered an expletive, rolled over and went back to sleep. Starting to get numb I think.

It's been a rough week for many reasons. I have to say the things that have been keeping me smiling are the calls, emails, and comments of support....much appreciated.

Two particular comments have given me plenty of mileage already and make me laugh whenever I think of them--so Nature Nerd and Keith you two are tied for the number one comment of the week:

"I think you should send them some feedback, starting with unfortunately, i can't accept your rejection letter, as I am the best candidate to take a seat in your stupid ass school."

and

"Pooooop to U of C. Poop. They have no idea what they just passed up. No. Idea."

Ahh well. Life goes on. I can't really moan about having to spend the next couple of years in the Caribbean, but I can moan about having to be so far away from such amazing friends and family.

Admissions Committees are Just Not that Into Me

Once again I interrupt the slow plodding chronicles of my volunteer trip to India to write about current events in my long journey to medical school.

Yesterday I got three--count 'em--three rejection emails from Canadian medical schools. Ouch. The hits just keep on coming.

J.B was at the house when I opened the one from Calgary, which was the school I really wanted to get an interview at. The main bonuses were the proximity to my family, the 3 year program, the rural clerkships, the short drive to the mountains...oh and the hockey jersey that each student gets.

So I opened the email with a racing heart, thinking that it wasn't a good sign that I was getting the email on the first day of the notifications. I must say though, despite the contents, the thing that I really liked about the rejection was that the letter started like this:

February 2nd 2009


Dear Albinoblackbear,


Unfortunately,...(insert rejection monologue here)


I liked how they cut to the chase. They had me at "unfortunately" which I found thoughtful. I mean all one wants to know when opening a letter/email like that is YES or NO and you don't want to actually read 3 paragraphs and find buried somewhere in there the words "the cut off for the interview score invitations were higher than your application scores" or some convoluted drivel like that. Really, they ought to print the letters with either a green or red background so that you don't even have to read the words to get the message.

My rejection from Ottawa was like aforementioned wordy example. Buried. Paragraph three and with somewhat ambiguous wording.

So when I read that U of C didn't want me I had a small meltdown which J.B said "was a mixture of crying, laughing, and the F-word". It's true. It was a rant akin to the rant I had when I was first rejected many moons ago by a Saba.

But it brings me back to the question, what do admissions committees want? Is all this business about wanting 'well rounded applicants with life experiences that prove their dedication to medicine' a bunch of lip service to hide the fact that really they are still looking for borderline Aspergers applicants who have biochem degrees, 40 MCAT scores, and a research background?

Sigh.

Hold. Back. Rant.

Well, the upside is I am going to medical school, the downside is I will likely have to leave Canada to do so. Funny how today I got my renewal notification for the Canadian Journal of Rural Medicine. I just feel my heart hardening to the constant cries of "where are all the rural doctors in Canada?" and all the woes of rural ER docs when I am jumping up and down in the background going "pick me! pick me! I grew up in rural Alberta and want to continue to provide medical care to underprivileged populations in Canada!" and I get the letter from admissions that begins with the word 'unfortunately'.

Hate Mail

So I just got my first official rejection letter from XYZ School of Medicine in Warm Tropical Climate.

I guess my application just isn't good enough which makes sense I suppose. I mean, really...what made me think I had a chance?

I only graduated from BSc with distinction. Had "A" average in pre reqs. Have worked in health care for 4 years and traveled to the most remote regions of the country to deliver primary care to under-serviced populations. I only have certifications in ACLS, BTLS, TNCC, NRP, CPR-C, and Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner. Being on call as the only health provider in places where the nearest doctor/hospital was 4h away by plane has obviously given me no insight into the rigors of medical responsibility. What do I know about medicine? Clearly nothing.

Maybe it is because I am not well rounded enough. Like maybe if I spoke 4 languages instead of only 3. And played 4 instruments instead of only 3. Maybe if I hadn't had a career as a music teacher and in a successful band as a lead vocalist I could have put just a little more time into volunteer work because I only volunteered with the homeless youth project for a year and for the Red Cross Emergency Disaster team for 3 years, and in an elephant sanctuary in Malaysia, oh and at that hospital in India. Maybe if I had been more athletic...like been involved in more sports than just volleyball, basketball, rugby, running, rock climbing, skiing, kayaking, hiking, and cross country mountain biking...damn it! I knew I should have taken up lacrosse and water polo!

I suppose it is my small mindedness and inability to venture into unknown territories because I have been outside this small town so few times. I mean hasn't everyone been to Thailand, India, Sri Lanka, Nepal, Malaysia, New Zealand, Australia, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Africa?

It is such shit feeling to open that letter in the post office. The nice, well air conditioned post office. The letter was just sitting there so innocuously. It didn't look like the menacing message it held. After opening it I had to go and pick up a parcel (a book about first responders and PTSD incidentally) and was in a full rejection daze. The frustration of all the time and money and blood and sweat and tears for this. This letter printed on nice heavy paper. Paper my 75$ application fee helped pay for.

I know, I know. Rejection is a part of the process. But frankly, this really isn't a good time. It's a million degrees outside and my arms are sticking to my MCAT notes as I try and make them, my relationship has been through a meat grinder over the past 10 months, and my financial ruin may come if I don't somehow win the lottery or stop studying for the MCAT and get back to work soon. So with each passing day the WHY AM I DOING THIS voice gets louder and more insistent.

Okay. Rant done. I had to vent somewhere. And if not on my blog chronicling my path to med school then where?

Stupid. Stupid. Med. School. I hate you almost as much as I hate shin splints.

Maybe I didn't get in because of my sense of entitlement.

hmmm.....