Just a little nervous (the real nerves come later this week)

Tomorrow I get an e-mail to tell me if I matched or not. Not where. Just yes or no.

If yes, my nerves will settle down just a little. If no...well, if no, I plan on just crawling back into bed and crying and maybe or maybe not plan on rejoining the world in the future.

Actually, I won't get to. Because I will be very busy being involved with the infamous "Scramble."

Where poor fourth year medical students who didn't get a residency position fight it out for any remaining open slots across the country. A two day process involving a lot of phone calls, waiting, and further hits on your self esteem.

I really hope that doesn't happen. How terrible to work this hard for this many years and not get a residency position. And possibly end up somewhere you've never heard of and don't know anything about.

Or worse, end up in a different specialty all together. To not be an anesthesiologist, but a family medicine doc or an internist.

Here's to hoping for the best.


-This is cross posted here-

Just a little nervous (the real nerves come later this week)

Tomorrow I get an e-mail to tell me if I matched or not. Not where. Just yes or no.

If yes, my nerves will settle down just a little. If no...well, if no, I plan on just crawling back into bed and crying and maybe or maybe not plan on rejoining the world in the future.

Actually, I won't get to. Because I will be very busy being involved with the infamous "Scramble."

Where poor fourth year medical students who didn't get a residency position fight it out for any remaining open slots across the country. A two day process involving a lot of phone calls, waiting, and further hits on your self esteem.

I really hope that doesn't happen. How terrible to work this hard for this many years and not get a residency position. And possibly end up somewhere you've never heard of and don't know anything about.

Or worse, end up in a different specialty all together. To not be an anesthesiologist, but a family medicine doc or an internist.

Here's to hoping for the best.

The Next Step

Next week, my fate is decided.

It's something called "the Match," a complicated process in which fourth year medical students are giving residency training positions.

(For the "complete" inner working of the process, see here.)

And it happens next week.

And you can all be incredibly grateful that you don't live with me. Because this is all that I have talked about for months now. Hubster is sick of it.

I have been waiting for this day for years. As soon as I was accepted into medical school, my mind immediately skipped forward, like it always does, to the next step: residency.

I took specialty questionnaires, and then researched residencies for the specialties the questionnaires pointed me to during first year. I thought I had made up my mind during second year and researched pediatric residencies (looking mostly at call schedules and insurance coverage.) Third year, well, I was too tired to think about it. But then fourth year again was spend studying residencies, first pediatrics, then family medicine, and ultimately anesthesiology.

After waiting so long, it's a little unbelievable that it is happening on Thursday. It's actually going to happen.

I'm a sloshing mess of anxiety, excitement, panic, relief, jitters, dread, and anticipation. Most of the time, I'm not sure which emotion is dominant.

Not knowing has held us all in limbo. "Are you guys going to the family camp-out?" Don't know yet. "Will you be able to come of vacation with us?" Don't know yet. "So, where are you guys going for residency?" Don't know yet.

A week from now, I will know where my family and I am going to be living for at least the next four years. A week from now, we will be house hunting for real, and not just wistfully. A week from now, I can start planning again.

A week from now, I will be one step closer.

One Week Left

I'm sure that some of you may have noticed the countdown on the side bar of my blog. The one that has "The Match" above it.

I guess I should explain what "The Match" is. (And yes, it is always said like that. You can hear the capitals when people say it.) Since I have been promising to explain it, and now it is only one week away.

The Match is the process that determines where fourth year medical students will go to for residency. Basically, it is a complicated computer process that determines the rest of our lives.

It's not quite as random as that. We do have a little say. After a fourth year decides what specialty they want to go into, they then apply to interview at programs they think will suit them. I applied to programs that I felt were in livable cities, had dental schools in the same area, and I felt has some reputation of being a good program. Then, you interview. Which is long and costly.

After interviewing, you decide where you would like to go. So you make a list. Ranking your first choice at number one, all the way down.

The programs also make lists. Ranking their top candidate number one, and all the way down.

Then the computer goes to work.

We'll use me as an example to show how this might work. Say that I am candidate number 1358 that the computer looks at. The computer looks at my first choice (Iowa). The system pulls up Iowa's list to see if Iowa ranked me at all. If they did, and there is still room at the program, the computer "matches" me there. But say that all the positions at Iowa are full. The computer looks at the positions those people have on Iowa's list. If one of those people is ranked below me (Say I'm number 8 on Iowa's list, and one of the positions is filled by someone ranked 15.) The person ranked lower is removed and I'm placed in Iowa. If all the positions at Iowa are filled by people ranked higher than myself, the system looks at my second choice (Oregon). And this process continues and continues until, theoretically, all the medical students are "matched" into residencies.

(Of course, this doesn't always happen and then something terrible happens - "The Scramble.")

So yeah, it's just that simple. Ha.

Supposedly this system gives the applicants the most control, but does it really sound like we have any control. Take an entire population of type A personalities and take all their control away and then say, "Now, go and be happy."

With The Match being only one week away, I have so many emotions and so many thoughts.

But I think that's enough for now.

Give it up

Time for another weigh in.

Since I may or may not have lost 1/2 pound this week (depending on yesterday's weight or today's), I debated about posting at all.

But I need something to keep me on the straight and narrow (or just shame me, that works too.) And I worry that without any accountability, I will just end up discouraged and eating ice cream. Out of the box. On the couch. Watching Oprah. In my pajamas.

So I'm not going to get discouraged. Even if I don't lose the goal of 5 pounds this month, I'll just keep working at it.

When I realized that it nearly half way through March, and I'm not close, I thought about what I should give up to help me along.

Last year, when I really started to gain weight from stress of licensing exams and such, I gave up ice cream. It is no longer allowed in the house. We now occasionally go out for ice cream. Rarely. Not nearly as often as I would like.

2 months ago, I gave up beef. It wasn't really that hard. I was a vegetarian for 3 years and liked it, but for some reason, haven't been able to go all the way back. Giving up beef was fine (as long as I don't think too much about medium-rare steaks.)

So on Sunday, I decided that for 2 months, I would give up dessert.

And then my husband came home on Monday with a box of Girl Scout Samoas cookies.

Well, maybe next week.

A long list of used to

I used to write poetry. Lots and lots of it.

And not just teenage angst lines (although there was plenty of that). I wrote about my mother, my children, growing up, and trees. I wrote a lot about trees.

I haven't written any poetry for quite a long time.

It's not like I don't try. I have a notebook in my purse that I keep for when inspiration stops by...or waves from across the road. But it just doesn't come to me like it used to.

I sometimes feel that "used to" were the saddest words.

I used to dance ballet.

I used to spend time in the darkroom with my old film SLR.

I used to paint oils.

I used to want to be a marine biologist.

And I've been worried that poetry is being added to my list of "used to."

But maybe it isn't as sad as I think it is. Maybe writing, no matter what it is, even this blog, is enough. Maybe I don't need the poetry anymore.

But occasionally, I still hear it.

Go Utes!

It is very possible that the Utah vs TCU men's basketball game that we went to on Saturday may be the last Utah sports event that we ever go to.

Which is very sad. But no matter where we end up at, we will always be Ute fans at heart.

My very favorite Utes fan

It was the first Utah game of any type that Blaise has been to. He spent less time being interested in the game and more time worrying about the location of the Utes mascot, Swoop. Or as Blaise called him, "the big man bird."


Roman, like always, was darling, and quickly caught onto the chants, songs, and cheers, throwing up his "U" with each free-throw.

Proud to be a Ute!

Teach them while they're young!

A whole family of Utes!

(And, of course, the Utes won. 68-49. Go Utes!)