So, I took that plane to this city that I adore so much. And here I am in the Russian’s apartment. Now what?
I was literally looking out the window a while ago and thought to myself: What the actual fuck am I doing here? I’ve always wanted an adventure, to travel without a set goal, to be a nomad…yet here I am being a nomad and beginning the residency interview trail and my feet are cold (and it’s not the weather….well, a little).
The Russian’s working right now. I’m “working” too. I’ve been sitting in front of the computer screen for a while now trying to conjure up decent responses to potential interview questions and I’ve come up with nothing. I know myself well enough to know it’s a matter of waiting a bit until the inspiration strikes. I’m just not feeling it right now.
Zero interview offers last week and zero so far this week. I emailed a program in this city, my last chance to do residency here. They emailed back saying they couldn’t offer an interview date at the moment but that I would be placed on the “highest wait-list” and they provided four potential interview dates, asking for my preference. I don’t know whether to be happy, sad, or just a ball of mush. I guess it’s good news? Maybe?
I hate this waiting game. I hate the uncertainty of not knowing whether I’ll be able to snag a residency spot outside of my hometown. This all reminds me so much of med school and how your goals change from “idealistic undergrad” to “jaded student who doesn’t give any fucks” as you get deeper into it. When you first submit ERAS you’re thinking: Yeah I’m a pretty solid candidate and I’m applying to psychiatry, totally noncompetitive. I should be fine and get interviews everywhere! Soon after that changes to: Is anybody actually considering my application? Just give me interviews. Anywhere. I’ll take them all. Then you turn into mush, sit in a corner and rock back and forth while chanting: I just want to match.
They play with our little med student hearts, residency admission committees. Oh yes they do.