As I was falling asleep last night, I scrolled through my Facebook feed (bad sleep-hygiene, do as I say not as I do, etc etc). I clicked on that thing where you see your memories and this came up…
Seven whole years since I received a thick envelope in the mail with the good news: MEDICINE. Incidentally, yesterday exactly a year ago we found out about our internship placements (yeah, I wrote that post a little late).
I realised that I don’t feel sad when I think back on these things. I read through my journal of September-October 2008 and I thought fondly of the girl who agonised about her first HIV-test (the one that was strongly suggested in our admissions packet), and who worried that her university would be too conservative for her (it was a little conservative), and who honestly believed that she would find a cure to HIV.
And I realise that my journey in medicine was not at all what I expected, despite not knowing what to expect. I realise that it was a harrowing time period and that I often nearly gave up. I can think of a million things I could have done, could have enjoyed, could have been good at. Medicine was just one of many paths I could have taken.
But I don’t regret a thing. When I read back on eighteen-year-old-me’s discovery that she would be going to med school… I am excited for her.