A love letter to the mediocre medical student (high achieving medical students also welcome to read – may you feel smugly superior as you find yourself unable to identify with any of the following statements):
As you trip over the same curb that gets you every morning on your way into the hospital, be grateful for that bit of coffee you spilled on your shirt mid-stumble – maybe a fatigued patient will feel more awake after smelling a waft of your stain as you pass by.
When the resident interrupts your presentation to the attending by contradicting you to say, “Actually, the patient’s progress note from July of 2007 says something totally different…” and you start to feel the way you did when you were in group violin class as a 7-year old and you peed your pants while playing Pachelbel’s Canon, remember every other resident who believed in you, encouraged you, and made a personal effort to validate your worth as a part of the treatment team.
Then, have the courage to complete your presentation with quiet dignity, just like how you played Pachelbel all the way through to the end, even with that warm wetness on your leg.
(You’re fine. It’s not like that experience still haunts you to this day and acts as an integral source of your deeply rooted shame. It’s fine. You’re fine.)
When your attending asks you question after question to “test your knowledge base,” until you answer a question incorrectly, and you are then chewed out for not having an “adequate fundamental grasp on medicine,” it’s ok to allow yourself a daydream away from this moment. Remember that gorgeous waiter from that restaurant in Atlanta? Think about him for a little while. You’ll feel your shoulders relaxing, and your stomach unclenching. But make sure you stay present just enough to keep your face contrite, and don’t forget to say, “Sorry sir, I will absolutely go home and read up on the subject on UpToDate.”
In the evening after work, when you’ve dragged yourself to the nearest Starbucks to do some UWorld questions, and you’ve scored a dismal 40%, don’t feel down for too long. 40% is close to 50%, which means you know half of the information! And 50% is only a couple points from 60%, and if you had guessed a few more correctly that’s basically a 65%, which is a pass!
As you crawl into bed with what remaining strength you have left, you might feel overwhelmed at the breadth of knowledge you haven’t yet grasped. You might feel fearful for Boards Step 2 right around the corner, and you might feel ashamed at struggling so much when your peers seem to be thriving all around you. You might even be watching Jimmy Kimmel on YouTube in bed in efforts to drown out the thoughts of self-doubt and anxiety.
If this is you, remember that every class, every board examination, and every rotation has come and gone and you are still alive. More importantly, remember the faces of the patients you cried with, and the hands of those you held in prayer. Remember that your feet have walked hundreds of miles’ worth of hospital halls, trying to deliver the best care you could. Remember that being inadequate and insufficient makes your story that much more of a miracle – by God’s grace alone were you able to make it this far. He cut out a path for you, and all you have to do is walk in it.
Go to sleep vowing to do the best you can tomorrow, and be proud of the day you just lived. It takes a lot of courage to be a mediocre medical student.
(Also be sure to wash that coffee stain out as soon as possible because that shirt was a splurge and you’ll hate yourself if the stain’s permanent.)
Purpose for the Journey 