So I haven’t posted in awhile. No worries! Match Week was absolutely crazy, and since Match Day, I’ve celebrated with endless family and friends; looked for, found, and bought a house; started my last rotation of medical school; and have just in general been enjoying life.
I don’t keep it a secret that I had to apply to medical school four times. It’s just a part of my story. However, I truly believe that by going through that process, my self-confidence has been irreparably damaged. I constantly doubt myself. I doubted that I would ever get in; I doubted that I would pass all of my classes; I doubted that I would pass my Step exams; I worried and fretted frequently about my ability to obtain a residency position, or if I did, that it would be in a place that I did not necessarily want, but that I should just feel lucky to have obtained a spot.
I never imagined that I would go from a third-time re-applicant to being actively recruited for my first job as a doctor. Not a single one of those bad, scary things that I lost sleep over ever happened.
I also never imagined that putting together my rank list would have been so hard. I absolutely loved my top 4 programs and was hopeful that I would Match at one of those four; but what if I Matched at the place at the very end of my list? Getting the “Congratulations” email from the NRMP on Monday lifted the fear of not Matching, but waiting four more days to hear where was nerve-wracking. Zillow was confused about why I was looking at houses in four different states.
On Match Day, we arrived at the Mellwood Arts Center early to take part in the festivities. Local organizations were sponsoring giveaways, provided food and drink, etc. The nervous energy that filled the room was intoxicating. My husband and I grabbed a table with several of my friends and their spouses as we anxiously awaited getting our letters at noon.
The last hour felt like it stretched on for ever and ever.
When it was finally time to go up and get our letters, I was a shaking mess. I held the thin white envelope in my hands and I was terrified. Would I Match at my #1? #2? #14?
When we got the go-head at noon, I ripped open the letter, took a deep breath, and looked for my program name.
I dropped the letter, clasped my hands to my face and cried. David picked up the letter, read it, and cried too. Screams of triumph filled the room. Smiles were plentiful. Everyone at my table Matched at their #1 program!
We are moving back to Indianapolis! We could not be happier.