The truth? The truth is I had no reason. I grew up with a mother who worked nights, a mother who missed holidays, and a mother who worked her ass off to provide for her family. My father was the one who tucked my sister and me into bed at night, and the one who went to school functions. My introduction to medicine came at the dinner table on those nights my mother didn’t work, when she’d tell us about the 14 year-old girl who came to her in labor. I learned about a set of  twins who might not make it because their mother had no prenatal care. Mostly we heard her complain about whiny patients or families. She had a very “you got yourself  into this mess” kind of attitude, but nevertheless she was patient with them and treated them well despite their complaints. 

Later when she was training as a first-assist, she told us horrors from the OR. The testicular varicocele she helped operate on discussed over a plate of spaghetti. Her struggles with trying to learn to tie suture knots one-handed. She complained about dealing with surgeons and the battle of getting paid through insurance companies who didn’t recognize her as an integral part  of the procedure. 

I was fascinated by all the stories. I wanted to have stories like that, to influence people’s lives like she did. That was when I was 6 or 7. Then I grew up and realized that interacting with people was not really my strong suite. In elementary school, my mother took me with her for “Take your daughter to work day”. She dressed me up in those teal blue scrubs and put a mask and gloves on me, then I stood in a delivery room and watched a baby come into the world with blood and sweat and tears and screams (lots of screams). Looking back, I’m pretty sure she was using it to scare me into never having sex, which only worked in so far as it made me more paranoid when I did start having sex. 

What I knew of medicine was my mother having to leave family dinners because she got called in when the hospital was short staffed. I knew my mother was always tired. I knew the bags under her eyes as she tried so hard to stay awake long enough to take us to school each morning before crashing into bed for a few hours of blissful sleep before getting up and doing it all over again. From what I knew of medicine, it wasn’t what I wanted. I had no idea what I wanted, but I was certain it wasn’t that. 

So what made me change my mind so drastically? 

There’s a lot that goes into the decision to go to medical school. For some people it comes from a family tradition- fathers or mothers, grandparents, aunts or uncles who were doctors before them. Being able to live up to that family expectation is what gets you motivated enough to study for hours, days, and weeks on end. These people have grown up with medicine from the providers perspective, they know the business of medicine and know the financial rewards and the esteem that comes from being a doctor.

For others it stems from living with someone who is dealing with a lifelong illness, or perhaps they themselves have a condition that makes them passionate about medicine. These people have dealt with medicine from the patient’s perspective. It gives them a unique sense of empathy with patients and it makes them great and passionate physicians.

Then again, there are others (like me) who aren’t quite ready to be grown-ups and need a little more time in school to decide what they want to do with their lives. The lifelong learners, the kids going to medical school to know things. 

There’s a little bit of each of these characteristics in every medical student. We’ve all been to see a doctor at some point, so we’ve all been patients. We’ve all had jobs at some point (Or at least most of us have) and so we know the financial benefits from having a higher education, and we all have that passion and drive to know things (or we’d never have made it this far). But each one of us is a little different, we all have different perspectives and different motivations for making that leap of faith and applying to medical school. 

I applied to medical school on a whim. I never had that view of medicine from a relative who’s a doctor. I had only brief glimpses into medicine as a patient, as I never really had any health issues growing up. I love to learn things, but I never really had that all consuming passion to be a doctor. The choice came for me during my senior year of college working towards my Bachelor’s degree in biochemistry (super nerd, I know). My thought process up to this point had been vague. I thought maybe I wanted to work in forensics, and even went so far as to tour the Georgia Bureau of Investigation and begin the application process, but it was without vigor. I felt apathetic, distant, unfulfilled. 

Another part of me thought the Peace Corps would be a good fit. I love to travel and it would give me time to find myself. Upon looking into this, and staring down a 2 and a half year commitment in a third world country, I started having doubts. My dad and I talked about it and researched Peace Corps alternatives and we came across a volunteer organization called Cross Cultural Solutions who specialize in volunteer trips from 2 weeks to 3 months long in healthcare and education. My bachelor’s degree was still lacking an internship credit and this was perfect! It gave me the opportunity to travel without commiting years of my life to something I wasn’t 100% sure of. 

The list of places I could go was staggering! India! Russia! Guatemala! Thailand! Africa! Every place I read about fueled my wanderlust, but my mind kept returning to Africa. The program was based in Ghana, West Africa and had a healthcare centered internship program with opportunities for helping in women’s empowerment initiatives. With the help of my school, I signed up for a 6 week internship in Hohoe, Ghana working in a hospital HIV clinic. 

With that last internship credit settled, I was ready to graduate, but I still didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up. 

So, I did what college students are supposed to do but nobody ever really does. I went to see my academic advisor. This was probably the first time since orientation that I had even seen her in passing, so naturally she had no idea who I was, which normally would have suited me just fine, but today I actually wanted advice. So she pulled up my transcript and I told her I wanted to know what else I could do. She looked it over briefly and said, “Well other than what you are already doing, you have enough credits to apply to medical school.” 

I stared at her blankly for a moment, thinking it over, then said, “Alright, let’s do it.” Completely unaware of what my last semester would bring and how my outlook would be completely different come graduation.