Reasoning

any people come into Health Sciences dead set on being a doctor. But in the past few months of my junior year alone, so many Health Sci majors have shifted gears and decided otherwise. What's surprising is not that people are actually rethinking their choice to go to med school, but that so many of them are doing it in about the same period of time, as if it were a contagious disease.

      My apologies for the horrible metaphor. I'm not saying that questioning yourself is a bad thing. In fact, it's a terrific thing. The huge, scary decision of what to do with your life after you graduate is a choice that you will inevitably be forced to make. There's just no getting around it, unless perhaps you plan to flunk your subjects and stay in school forever (a decision I actually mulled over for a while, because I really do love being in college). Otherwise, it's best to be prepared when that time comes. You wouldn't want to be stuck in med school knowing deep down that you really would've been much happier working a job in I.T., or at Starbucks, or perhaps in the music industry (a goal that one Health Sci graduate has actually achieved). 

      Last Thursday, a few friends of mine, all batchmates from Health Sci, all rethinking med school to some degree, decided to get together to talk about their futures outside Ateneo. It was to be a casual, cozy little chat in a gas station Starbucks, a trike ride away from school. And even though the talk was a venue to discuss career options apart from medicine, I wanted to sit in and listen to what they had to say. It would be interesting, like listening to an autograph book (I'm not being sarcastic; autograph books really are interesting!). Admittedly I was a little scared that they'd boo and hiss at me if I said I was already decided on going to med school. But R. and D. so kindly invited me, and I was happy. 

      On the day itself, only six people had gathered, a large difference from the few dozen guests who, on the Facebook invite, said they would come. And instead of Starbucks, the venue was moved to the more convenient JSEC (the more expensive alternative to the Gonzaga cafeteria). But these changes were trivial. The show would go on.

      At first they were unsure of what to talk about. But eventually, they decided to go around in a circle, discussing why they weren't going to med school (or why they weren't sure about it), how they arrived at that decision, and what they would rather be doing. 

      I liked listening to their stories. Sticking to a path that you have already picked out certainly takes hard work. But to realize in the thick of it that you don't like where you're headed, or worse, that you don't know where you want to go - that is even harder. It takes a tremendous amount of strength and bravery to admit when you are lost, and here were people who were doing just that. It was eye-opening. 

      It was frightening too. At one point, they began telling medicine horror stories. They talked about the endless studying. They talked about the eternities, the infernos that life will put you through before you can call yourself a doctor. You will spend the prime years of your life chained to your books and cadavers. You will have no social life. You will be absolutely miserable. And the scariest story of all: the people who, after becoming doctors and opening their clinics, regretted ever going to med school.

     But after the horror came the romance. They talked about all the things that they wanted, and the people they wanted to become. A teacher of History, a consultant on sustainability, an NGO health worker, a biologist. As much as I loved to listen to their stories, what I loved even more was to watch. They spoke about their ambitions with a startling fervor. Usually nonchalant, they seemed to transform into impassioned, brilliant, shiny versions of themselves, so unlike the versions I was so used to interacting with. It was a side of my friends that I had experienced rarely, and I wondered if I have ever spoke about anything with such energy and enthusiasm as they did.  

      

      When finally all of them had finished speaking, D said, "Now that we've heard each others' stories, why don't we hear from someone who actually has made up her mind?" and he turned to me. I hesitated, waiting for the boos and the hisses to meet my ears, for the eggs and the tomatoes to hit my face. But there was nothing but silence as they waited to hear my story. 

      I didn't tell them much. I told them my parents aren't doctors, that my glimpses into the world of medicine come mainly from my aunts who are. I told them about how I'd use to play doctor as a kid, and that for most of my life, that's what I believed I wanted to do. I said that I hate when someone I love is sick, that I hate the inevitable feeling of uselessness that I get when I am unable to help.

      I tried to explain my side with as much conviction as possible. Inwardly, I felt like a machine, rattling off words and phrases from lines that I had spoken so often in the past, they had become hardwired into my brain. Yet, as I spoke them out loud, I felt like a little girl in a play, squinting at a person in the audience who was trying to mouth her script back to her, even though she didn't need the extra coaching. 

      Don't get me wrong. I'm hell-bent on getting that M.D. appended to my name. But there, simply explaining to my friends why I'm crazy enough to go to med school, I felt like I was on the losing end of a debate. They had unconsciously just enumerated for me, through their horror stories, the hundred million reasons NOT to go to med school, and through their love stories, the hundred million dreams I would be giving up by becoming a doctor. I felt irrational. I felt like a lunatic. How is it that, among these people who were undecided on their futures, it suddenly seemed like I was the lost one?

      Med scares the heck out of me. I am absolutely terrified of it. But I realize now that I am drawn to medicine for the same reason that my friends are drawn away from it; we're only listening to what our hearts are telling us. I may have etched into my brain a checklist of reasons I can recite at any moment (it will send me around the world... I will help people... I'll make money...) but I now I realize that perhaps the most important reason is simply that I want to do it. It is as Father Arrupe says: Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything. 

     Note: This is a long post. I've been writing and rewriting it for hours now, and I think I'll go take a break. I know that other bloggers will scold me for posting an unfinished entry, but I can't help it. I'm excited to show this to people. I will hopefully pick up another time, in another post. I probably won't see the need to though. 

      P.S. I'm taking the NMAT on December 2! I'm scared and excited. Please wish me luck.