It's Not Rocket Science
It's Not Rocket Science
Rejection is never easy, but it is an inevitable part of life. I wish there were such a thing as a country-wide medical school rejection letter – one letter at the end of the cycle telling you all the places that said #ByeFelicia.
Resilience. Drive. Dedication. Empathy. These are just some of the traits that medical schools tell starry-eyed MD wannabes that they will need to make it in the competitive and taxing profession of medicine.
I was never that kid who always dreamed of being a doctor. In fact, my parents used to tell me that I would make a great lawyer since I love to talk and am always up for a healthy debate. On the other hand, my older brother, with his kind heart and love of anatomy, was always supposed to be the doctor. Little did they know that high school physics would be his downfall, and my sudden passion for neuroscience around that same time would be my salvation. In the end, my older brother chose law school while I decided to pursue medicine.
When I started my Bachelor of Science in Neuroscience, I knew that I loved the field, but I wanted to keep my options open before settling on a career path. In addition to shadowing and interviewing all kinds of healthcare professionals, I forced myself to go outside my comfort zone by volunteering in animal research and human research. I needed to give myself as broad a perspective as possible.
When it comes to studying the brain, there is no way to avoid getting up close and friendly with rats. I remember sitting on the bus that first day approaching the hospital where I would begin my research. I looked up Perek Shira for rats and just kept singing it to myself over and over as a mantra (it’s “Kol haneshama tehallel ka hallelukah” btw – it’s really quite beautiful). I had many responsibilities, such as feeding the rats cannabis. Unfortunately, I missed feeding them cocaine as that day was the holiday of Simchas Torah (TBH that missed opportunity still bugs me to this day…but gam zu letovah!). As I became more comfortable, I was even promoted to the position of ‘Chief Cuddler’ as I called it (I was responsible for snuggling with the pups to make them feel safe upon arrival in the lab). To this day, I have no clue how I spent so many months working with those creatures since they – and all bugs and rodents really – utterly terrify me. What I can tell you, though, is that it taught me a profound lesson: When you have a goal that you are passionate about, and you ask Hashem for help, you truly can achieve anything you put your mind to.
Beneficial as my time with the rats was, I was beyond delighted when I switched to working with humans. I began volunteering in a Geriatric Psychiatry In-Patient Unit in my second year, and I knew I had found home the day I got there. They told me to come for two hours a week, but I would show up weekly for a full seven-hour day instead. This is where I learned that medicine is the only field in which I wished – no, needed – to be.
While I loved volunteering in that unit, I felt the need to do more for those patients. Something that always amazed me was how patients would be admitted in such a state of distress, but a few months later, they would leave an entirely different person. This is because mental illness masks the person underneath. It was incredible to see how the veil of illness could be lifted, letting the person’s true self finally shine through.
I decided that I want to be a physician because I want to be the one to lift that veil. This decision was a big first step in the right direction, but there was much more work to be done.
I decided to apply a year early to medical school. This meant changing around all my courses so that I could still graduate with a Bachelor’s (just a General degree instead of Honours). Unfortunately, many schools did not take students with only a 3-year Bachelor’s. I was only able to apply to one school, and when I got the rejection in January, I bawled so hard I thought I would never stop. I had been banking on that school since I had started studying for the MCAT 9 months prior (I literally could have had a baby in that time! It was a very long time to be waiting). I had bitachon that I would get in…but then I didn’t. That same night, after a lot of crying, I pulled myself together. I called my pre-med contacts for academic advice, my best friend for some chizuk, and then sat down and wrote the longest list I could telling Hashem all of the things I was going to accomplish that year with this unexpected extra year that He had given Me. It was a long and impressive list, and I started to feel okay again.
The following summer, I retook the MCAT. I worked super hard in school to keep my grades tip-top, took on even more extra-curriculars than you can count, and gave it my all. I was now your typical applicant – a fourth-year student applying to start medical school right after graduation. Between needing a place with kosher food and the uncanny uniqueness of each Canadian medical school’s application requirements, I applied “across Canada” – AKA just a handful of schools. I wasn’t picky (there was a new Chabad house in Newfoundland, and so I even applied there! For all the Americans reading this – that is the equivalent of a frum girl in Wyoming!), but the number of schools was still quite tiny. When January came, I started receiving rejections. It was very hard, but I kept my faith. The last school said they would let applicants know if they had an interview as late as three days in advance, and so I had to miss my cousin’s wedding just in case they bestowed upon me such a gift. In the end, they took till late March to get back to me, and it was a rejection.
That rejection was the hardest one I ever received in my life. I felt like my world was crashing around me, and there was no hope. The finality of that letter was crushing. Unlike the year prior, though, I didn’t complain, and I didn’t even cry; I was almost robotic in my response. I immediately got to work on discussing my next options with my pre-med friend. When she mentioned an alternative but similar career, I brushed her off, but when I got home that day, the first thing I did was start researching it. By the time my parents came home that night, the matter was settled in my mind: I was not good enough to become a physician – I clearly just didn’t have what it takes – but I could totally make it in this new profession if I worked hard at it.
Over the next two months, I obsessively researched this new plan. I conducted phone interviews with every friend of a friend who was in this career to learn as much as possible. I looked into additional coursework that I would need to complete as a prerequisite. I started applying for new positions that would boost my CV to make it in this field. I even filled out the entire application (including the very hefty and non-refundable application fee to my wallet’s chagrin). As I did all this, I told myself that medicine was still a possibility, and I could apply for both that summer and just wait and see where I got in. But as the work piled up and the deadlines came closer, I had to face the truth: there was not enough time for both.
Then June 11, 2019, came – the day of my undergraduate graduation. To my surprise, I was honoured with a very prestigious academic award. That award was like a slap in the face to all my doubts and fears. Silly as it sounds, that award was THE stimulus for one of the most important changes in my life. All of a sudden, it dawned on me that I am smart enough, that I am capable of achieving my dreams. I put that medal on display in my bedroom so that I would never again forget who I am and what I am capable of. I knew that day exactly what I needed to do.
I ditched my new career plan on the spot and started the long and gruesome process of filling out medical school applications. This was my big chance, and I wasn’t going to let anything stop me. I applied that summer all across the USA, which included writing over 100 essays (and no, this was not easy for me; I am a scientist, not an English major!!). When the Fall came, I applied all over again to the same handful of schools across Canada from the year prior. When Winter came, I even applied to a few medical schools in Israel.
Rejection is never easy, but it is an inevitable part of life. I wish there were such a thing as a country-wide medical school rejection letter – one letter at the end of the cycle telling you all the places that said #ByeFelicia.
But no, I painstakingly received every single rejection letter one at a time over TEN MONTHS. There were no specific dates on which you knew a letter would come; instead, your heart would skip a beat every time you checked your email for ten whole months. It was an emotional rollercoaster, incredibly taxing, and beyond stressful. Uncertainty is a real beast.
But you know what? Do you know what happened after all of the above? I MADE IT. B’ezras Hashem, I made it and ended up exactly where I am supposed to be. I got into a few schools, and in the end, I chose to call Technion in Haifa my home.
We will never know for sure while living on this earth why Hashem takes us down the roads that He does, but we can be assured that it is for our best so long as we put in the effort to do our best. The time, money, energy, and stress that I invested in all of this are innumerable, but the one comfort I have is that Hashem was behind it all. Throughout this journey, I know that I grew as a person, as a community member, as a family member, as a future physician, and as a Jew.
If there is only one thing you take away from my story, please let it be this: DO. NOT. GIVE. UP. ON. YOURSELF. Don’t ever believe that you are not enough. Push yourself to be the greatest version of yourself that you can be; daven and daven and daven some more; and believe with all your heart and soul that Hashem is there to guide you and help you every step of the way.
