The Waiting Game
It seems like my whole life, or at least since I realized my dream of going to medical school, I've been waiting. Waiting to get through high school, waiting to get through college, waiting to take the MCAT (or studying I should say), waiting to find out my scores, waiting to get enough research and volunteer experience, waiting and working at writing the perfect personal statement, waiting until I finish my medical school application, and finally, waiting to get the courage to hit the "submit" button. And then, once it was all out of my hands and I was finished waiting to create in myself the best medical school applicant I could create, I had to wait to see what the admissions committee would decide.
I first heard from them during a trip to Tahoe with some friends. We were headed to spend a day at the beach and my phone received a call from a mysterious Florida number. When I answered, not expecting a call so soon, it was Gus, an admissions advisor from the American University of the Caribbean School of Medicine, asking to speak with Tatum Toner...? Immediately, with a car full of animate people, I pulled over, motioned for everyone to shhhh, and said as professionally as possible, "this is her". He indicated that a few things were missing from my application, and once he received those things, I could start sending in my letters of recommendation. Aside from that, my application had been received, and if I had any questions, he would be my advisor.
Even though the admissions committee hadn't even begun to review my application, nerves took over my body and I began to shake uncontrollably. It all became real. The process was real, the years of preparation I'd endured, the application I sent in, the dream I'd dreamt of going to medical school... all of it was now real. I don't know what I thought up to that point. I had spent so much of my life building an application, that I didn't really consider what would happen if it all happened. But then Gus called me, an admissions advisor from the school of my dreams, and he had already gone through my application. I drove the rest of the way to the Tahoe beach still shaking and oblivious to the conversations going on in my car. My mind was wrapping itself around the tangibility of my dream.
Once I'd rectified the missing components aspect of my application, I didn't hear from them for a couple of weeks. When I did, it was another phone call, only this time, they were informing me that they were sending me an email with potential interview times, and if I could, respond to it with my top three interview times as soon as possible. I tried to remain level headed and not get my hopes up, however I couldn't help myself from reaching a new level of excitement and nervousness. They liked me enough to interview me! This was really happening. With shaking fingers, I responded to that email, and in that same day, my interview time was confirmed. In a little over two weeks I'd be attending my first medical school interview in San Francisco.
Two weeks is a long time when you're waiting. I tried not to talk about it too much. I didn't want to let my nerves get the better of me, and I figured the more people who knew, the more questions I'd be asked about how I nervous I was, which in turn would make me more nervous. In an ideal world, no one would know of this interview. I'd attend it, do my best, and then talk about it afterward. But as it turns out and is the way of the world, pretty much everyone knew by a week before the interview. How nervous was I, what was I going to wear, what questions were they going to ask, how was I going to get t/here... all questions I was asking myself were now spilling out of the mouths of everyone I talked to.
I thought of as many things as I could that I might potentially be asked about. Why did I want to be a physician? Why the American University of the Caribbean? What skills and attributes does a physician entering the 21st century need to possess? What are some current cutting edge medical advancements? What are my thoughts on Obamacare? What are my weaknesses? What experiences or people have influenced my decision?... I developed confident responses to each question, did some research on developments in fields that interest me, and practiced what I would say at different times of the day and with different people. A few days before the interview, I went shopping for an outfit at the mall. I opted for beige slacks, a crisp white collared long-sleeve shirt, a light brown leather belt, and matching brown leather heels and a brown leather wristwatch with a white face. I wore my pearl necklace I got from my grandma. To me, the outfit seemed an academic approach, but also professional and formal enough. When I was doing my Clinical Care Extender Internship at St. Regional Medical Center in Oxnard, CA, the volunteer coordinator there wore a similar outfit during our orientation, and I thought she was lovely. Long brown hair, tan skin, brown leather heels, elegance and poise... I had blonde hair at the time and felt significantly less superior to her, so being able to recreate my memory of her all these years later gave me some sort of inner satisfaction, and in some ways, boosted my confidence.
When my interview finally came, I was a ball of nerves. It was a make or break moment in my eyes. I couldn't think about it the whole drive down. In the beginning of the drive I made Jake ask me some prep questions, but after the first few, I made him ask me questions to take my mind off it or tell me some other story. We listened to music, and even after we found parking, I was still trying to keep my mind off why I was there. Unfortunately, the nerves were stronger than any resistance I built to them, and as I walked in the door to the reception desk, I could barely tell the receptionist my name without a quiver in my voice. She told me to take a seat and she, my interviewer, would be right with me. I sat in the arm chair in the lobby, and took deep breaths. I tried to convince myself that it wouldn't be a big deal if I didn't get in to medical school this time, or ever. Everything happens for a reason, so I needed to just relax. Focus on the architecture of this lobby. It was very modern. Exposed piping and air ducts. High ceilings. Bright colored walls and skylights letting in lots of light. But then I heard the familiar sound of heels on the marble floor and my chi became very off-centered.
I wish I could say I showed that interview who's boss, that I rocked it and kicked it's butt, but that didn't happen. I don't know what I was like compared to other interviewees, but I know it wasn't my personal best. I could have done better. It seemed that all the answers I had prepared were somehow not fitting to the questions she was asking. She asked the questions I thought she would, but the questions were extremely broken down, so my answers had to be more broken down. Or I had to give specifics where I wasn't prepared to give specifics. She also told me that my "science GPA" was lower than my "overall GPA", and that was uncommon for the typical med school applicant. My one saving grace, she said, was my MCAT score, which specifically, boasted a high Biology score. This news shook me, and doubt and dread replaced my anxiety. I told her that my "science GPA" is not an accurate representation of the kind of student I am, and expressed to her that it was a regret of mine that I didn't receive higher grades in courses so crucial to medical school. If I could redo those courses now, I'd not only get all A's, but I'd receive honors. She said she could tell that was the case, and that she'd be sure to include that in my interview summary she would send to the admissions committee. Aside from that, unfortunately, she couldn't tell me one way or the other my chances of getting in. Either way, I would find out a week from Friday, she informed me. Should she include anything else before concluding this interview? Um yes, definitely, I responded. Be sure to tell them that if I don't get accepted this time, they can look forward to dealing with me next quarter. She smiled and didn't miss a beat. So we should just save ourselves the trouble then? Probably should just save yourselves the trouble. We both stood, shook hands, I thanked her very much for her time and appreciated the time she took to interview me, and I left the office still shaking. Jake was waiting for me outside. I told him I didn't know how it went, but that I was glad it was over. We went to a nice dinner after that, but as much as I didn't want to admit it, I felt as though my dream was slipping from my fingers. It would take a couple days to get rid of the anxiety that was left over from the interview, but then once I did, I went back to my life and to work and began waiting... again...
Well, it wasn't two weeks, but almost four weeks later I received a voicemail on my phone. It was Ira, from the admissions department at the American University of the Caribbean School of Medicine, asking if I'd call her back as soon as possible. It was a Friday, and even though I called her back all day that day, I never got a hold of her. My spirits were high, because I was supposed to receive a hard copy letter indicating their decision, and surely they wouldn't send me a rejection letter AND give me a rejection phone call. But, being as it was the last workday of the week, I'd have to continue waiting two more days. Two very long, 24 hour days. On Monday morning I set my alarm to 7:00am (9:00am her time) to call her and resumed calling her every 15 minutes and leaving a couple more voicemails. It was Tatum, just calling her back, blah, blah, blah... By 2:30pm (4:30pm her time), I still had not heard from her, and felt devastated. My spirits were back to being lower than they had ever been. I went to pick up Jake from where he was having his tires rotated, and then drove straight back home and crawled in to bed. I wanted to cry. At 2:50pm, ten minutes from the end of the work day her time, I tried one last time from the darkness of my room and my bed, only this time, she answered. Hi, I'm just returning your call? Oh ok, what's your name? Tatum Toner. Let me pull your file, hold on. Ok, here it is, Tatum? Yes? Congratulations...
I first heard from them during a trip to Tahoe with some friends. We were headed to spend a day at the beach and my phone received a call from a mysterious Florida number. When I answered, not expecting a call so soon, it was Gus, an admissions advisor from the American University of the Caribbean School of Medicine, asking to speak with Tatum Toner...? Immediately, with a car full of animate people, I pulled over, motioned for everyone to shhhh, and said as professionally as possible, "this is her". He indicated that a few things were missing from my application, and once he received those things, I could start sending in my letters of recommendation. Aside from that, my application had been received, and if I had any questions, he would be my advisor.
Even though the admissions committee hadn't even begun to review my application, nerves took over my body and I began to shake uncontrollably. It all became real. The process was real, the years of preparation I'd endured, the application I sent in, the dream I'd dreamt of going to medical school... all of it was now real. I don't know what I thought up to that point. I had spent so much of my life building an application, that I didn't really consider what would happen if it all happened. But then Gus called me, an admissions advisor from the school of my dreams, and he had already gone through my application. I drove the rest of the way to the Tahoe beach still shaking and oblivious to the conversations going on in my car. My mind was wrapping itself around the tangibility of my dream.
Once I'd rectified the missing components aspect of my application, I didn't hear from them for a couple of weeks. When I did, it was another phone call, only this time, they were informing me that they were sending me an email with potential interview times, and if I could, respond to it with my top three interview times as soon as possible. I tried to remain level headed and not get my hopes up, however I couldn't help myself from reaching a new level of excitement and nervousness. They liked me enough to interview me! This was really happening. With shaking fingers, I responded to that email, and in that same day, my interview time was confirmed. In a little over two weeks I'd be attending my first medical school interview in San Francisco.
Two weeks is a long time when you're waiting. I tried not to talk about it too much. I didn't want to let my nerves get the better of me, and I figured the more people who knew, the more questions I'd be asked about how I nervous I was, which in turn would make me more nervous. In an ideal world, no one would know of this interview. I'd attend it, do my best, and then talk about it afterward. But as it turns out and is the way of the world, pretty much everyone knew by a week before the interview. How nervous was I, what was I going to wear, what questions were they going to ask, how was I going to get t/here... all questions I was asking myself were now spilling out of the mouths of everyone I talked to.
I thought of as many things as I could that I might potentially be asked about. Why did I want to be a physician? Why the American University of the Caribbean? What skills and attributes does a physician entering the 21st century need to possess? What are some current cutting edge medical advancements? What are my thoughts on Obamacare? What are my weaknesses? What experiences or people have influenced my decision?... I developed confident responses to each question, did some research on developments in fields that interest me, and practiced what I would say at different times of the day and with different people. A few days before the interview, I went shopping for an outfit at the mall. I opted for beige slacks, a crisp white collared long-sleeve shirt, a light brown leather belt, and matching brown leather heels and a brown leather wristwatch with a white face. I wore my pearl necklace I got from my grandma. To me, the outfit seemed an academic approach, but also professional and formal enough. When I was doing my Clinical Care Extender Internship at St. Regional Medical Center in Oxnard, CA, the volunteer coordinator there wore a similar outfit during our orientation, and I thought she was lovely. Long brown hair, tan skin, brown leather heels, elegance and poise... I had blonde hair at the time and felt significantly less superior to her, so being able to recreate my memory of her all these years later gave me some sort of inner satisfaction, and in some ways, boosted my confidence.
When my interview finally came, I was a ball of nerves. It was a make or break moment in my eyes. I couldn't think about it the whole drive down. In the beginning of the drive I made Jake ask me some prep questions, but after the first few, I made him ask me questions to take my mind off it or tell me some other story. We listened to music, and even after we found parking, I was still trying to keep my mind off why I was there. Unfortunately, the nerves were stronger than any resistance I built to them, and as I walked in the door to the reception desk, I could barely tell the receptionist my name without a quiver in my voice. She told me to take a seat and she, my interviewer, would be right with me. I sat in the arm chair in the lobby, and took deep breaths. I tried to convince myself that it wouldn't be a big deal if I didn't get in to medical school this time, or ever. Everything happens for a reason, so I needed to just relax. Focus on the architecture of this lobby. It was very modern. Exposed piping and air ducts. High ceilings. Bright colored walls and skylights letting in lots of light. But then I heard the familiar sound of heels on the marble floor and my chi became very off-centered.
I wish I could say I showed that interview who's boss, that I rocked it and kicked it's butt, but that didn't happen. I don't know what I was like compared to other interviewees, but I know it wasn't my personal best. I could have done better. It seemed that all the answers I had prepared were somehow not fitting to the questions she was asking. She asked the questions I thought she would, but the questions were extremely broken down, so my answers had to be more broken down. Or I had to give specifics where I wasn't prepared to give specifics. She also told me that my "science GPA" was lower than my "overall GPA", and that was uncommon for the typical med school applicant. My one saving grace, she said, was my MCAT score, which specifically, boasted a high Biology score. This news shook me, and doubt and dread replaced my anxiety. I told her that my "science GPA" is not an accurate representation of the kind of student I am, and expressed to her that it was a regret of mine that I didn't receive higher grades in courses so crucial to medical school. If I could redo those courses now, I'd not only get all A's, but I'd receive honors. She said she could tell that was the case, and that she'd be sure to include that in my interview summary she would send to the admissions committee. Aside from that, unfortunately, she couldn't tell me one way or the other my chances of getting in. Either way, I would find out a week from Friday, she informed me. Should she include anything else before concluding this interview? Um yes, definitely, I responded. Be sure to tell them that if I don't get accepted this time, they can look forward to dealing with me next quarter. She smiled and didn't miss a beat. So we should just save ourselves the trouble then? Probably should just save yourselves the trouble. We both stood, shook hands, I thanked her very much for her time and appreciated the time she took to interview me, and I left the office still shaking. Jake was waiting for me outside. I told him I didn't know how it went, but that I was glad it was over. We went to a nice dinner after that, but as much as I didn't want to admit it, I felt as though my dream was slipping from my fingers. It would take a couple days to get rid of the anxiety that was left over from the interview, but then once I did, I went back to my life and to work and began waiting... again...
Well, it wasn't two weeks, but almost four weeks later I received a voicemail on my phone. It was Ira, from the admissions department at the American University of the Caribbean School of Medicine, asking if I'd call her back as soon as possible. It was a Friday, and even though I called her back all day that day, I never got a hold of her. My spirits were high, because I was supposed to receive a hard copy letter indicating their decision, and surely they wouldn't send me a rejection letter AND give me a rejection phone call. But, being as it was the last workday of the week, I'd have to continue waiting two more days. Two very long, 24 hour days. On Monday morning I set my alarm to 7:00am (9:00am her time) to call her and resumed calling her every 15 minutes and leaving a couple more voicemails. It was Tatum, just calling her back, blah, blah, blah... By 2:30pm (4:30pm her time), I still had not heard from her, and felt devastated. My spirits were back to being lower than they had ever been. I went to pick up Jake from where he was having his tires rotated, and then drove straight back home and crawled in to bed. I wanted to cry. At 2:50pm, ten minutes from the end of the work day her time, I tried one last time from the darkness of my room and my bed, only this time, she answered. Hi, I'm just returning your call? Oh ok, what's your name? Tatum Toner. Let me pull your file, hold on. Ok, here it is, Tatum? Yes? Congratulations...
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