I'm done with waiting

After all the drama and build up, the match is tomorrow.

The not knowing is truly the worst. Worse than where I might end up. Worse than not getting my first choice. It's just going months and months without knowing. Not being able to plan.

I'm not as nervous as I thought I would be. I think my brain has shut off just a little. The real nerves will come, I think, tomorrow morning, as I'm holding my envelope with my family.

I'm trying to keep perspective about this. Building up to this day, it feels like Match Day is the most important day of my life. But it's not. It will never compare with my wedding day, the birth of my sons, or even the day I was accepted to medical school. This, instead of being a milestone, feels a little more like a speed bump. Just one more hoop to jump through.

The agony of waiting isn't anything like trying to create the rank list. That was hard. Every aspect of compromise, everything that marriages and relationships are founded on, was put to use.

Early on in the interview process, I thought I had found my perfect program. I loved the program. I loved the people. I loved the city. If they had offered me a position right then and there, I would have taken it without a second thought. I called Hubster in delight. "I've found it!" I said gleefully.

However, it was not to be. The graduate program there was a poor fit for Hubster. As in, not a snowball's chance. So, sick to my stomach, I tried to put my dream program out of sight, out of mind.

Everything worked out. Later in the interview process, I went to a program that, well, just felt right. The more we thought about it, the better it felt. In fact, it felt right enough of both Hubster and me that I was able to easily forget the initial dream residency.

That's what tomorrow is really about. It's the culmination of sacrifices on both my part and my family's part. It's evidence that compromise works for everyone.

And most importantly, it's the end of the waiting.