Bad Habits Die Hard

I have always gotten by on minimal effort. Of course, my "minimal" effort is somewhat subjective and some people might beg to disagree. I breezed through kindergarten, grade school, high school and to my utter surprise and amazement, college, with the highest honors.

(I am proud to say that I was a nursery drop-out which makes me sound less nerdy and more cool.)

But right now, I am not measuring up to my own standards. Medical school has been an eye opener. And instead of kicking myself in the butt, my own natural tendency to breeze through prevailed. Bad habits die hard.

I fail at being obsessive compulsive. I honestly wish I were. (Just a wee bit. Not enough to be classified mental.)

I still managed to get really good grades. But they weren't excellent. At least by my own standards.

Board exam is in twelve days and I have spent the weekend doing "constructive relaxation". I need to shake myself by the scruff of my neck and yell in my ear, "Get to work, Lazybones! There's a chance you're going to fail. Don't be arrogant!"

Ok. Back to work.

Eighteen

I was born on the eighteenth of February. So needless to say, eighteen is my favorite number. That goes without saying. It's a natural law, like gravity.

Eighteen.

Eighteen days till the Physician Licensure Exam. 

I am so scared right now. I look back on all that I have accomplished and it seems so little. Practically nothing. I am overwhelmed by my inadequacies, burdened by the expectations, hope and faith that people seem to have mistakenly placed upon me. 

I am inadequate. I am weak. I am in sheer panic mode.

Eighteen days. 

And then I re-read my whole blog this morning. (And I regret that I wrote so little.)

I was reminded of the girl I was and given a glimpse of the woman I am becoming. I look back on all the events that have led me to this point in my life. And I am filled with an amazing sense of gratitude.

I remember the little girl who played tongue depressors and empty syringes in the hospital, and thought that the "I Love Roche" sticker on the wall was talking about her family and not about a big pharmaceutical company. I remember the stubborn, talkative little girl who decided to be a doctor when she was in kindergarten. 

I remember the girl who in her last year of grade school, wrote a composition about what she would be in ten years' time. A doctor.

I remember the high school girl who opened an Atlas of the Human Anatomy in the library and tried memorizing the bones making up the skull, thinking that one day, she would master everything in that book and be an amazing doctor.

I remember this girl who was worried because they didn't have enough money for medical school, so she took up nursing "just in case" her dreams couldn't come true. I remember her frustrations because she got so scared during practical exams that her hands would shake while extracting distilled water from a vial. I remember how proud she was when her Anatomy teacher told her she was a very smart kid when she almost got perfect in his exam.

I remember how happy she was when she graduated with honors and made her parents proud. I remember the anxiety of taking the nursing board exam, the anguish of waiting for the result and the indescribable relief and pride when she called her parents and told them that she not only passed, she did so with flying colors.

And then she was granted her dream. She was given the chance to take up medicine. And so came the excitement and rush and agonies of medical school and internship. She remembers the sleepless nights studying and all the hard work which didn't seem to make any difference.  She remembers Cherry Berry, the baby with the Prune Belly Syndrome she spent so many sleepless nights monitoring, and how she cried when the baby died because her parents decided to unhook the ventilator because they couldn't afford to anymore. She remembers the IV drug abuser who screamed for pain relief while she helplessly tried to locate an IV site for his pain reliever. She hoped she had been a better intern for him, for all of them, and that one day she would be a better doctor for those who would need her.

My journey didn't begin in medical school. It began such a long time ago. And in every step of the way, I was guided. I was so spectacularly blessed in so many ways.

I have my family. I have the best and most supportive parents in the whole world, who have provided me with everything I could ever need. I have the best, craziest friends who are panicking with me at this very moment. I have superman for a mentor, and I couldn't possibly ask for a more amazing doctor to guide me at this critical moment in my life.

And just when I was at a very low point, help came unexpectedly.

Now I see so clearly, that I haven't been abandoned. That I am not fighting this alone. That though I have failed Him so many times, He would never fail me.

I am blessed. I am so full of gratitude. My cup overflows.

Eighteen days till the board exam. I have spent a sleepless night. But not in vain, because I found that I have everyone I love on my side. 

So bring it on! I'm not going down without a fight.