Job huntin'

There is hope for me yet. Once I got started on this residency search thing, I finally proved to myself I can make good process. But I am not certain whether getting started does anything to allay my nerves. The real problem comes in finding the truth about the programs -- somewhere between the buttered up versions resplendent with shiny happy residents featured on the program websites and the disgruntled rants on residency review sites/forums. I would love to see these program websites feature someone like Rich, the first night-float resident I met during my medicine rotation at Greenwich, who greeted us at sign-out every morning with hair tussled in every direction, chin grizzly with stubble, and the eyes of someone about to head-bob his way into REM. True, this is not the universal face of an IM intern, but it will be my face, minus the stubble of course.

As the impending doom draws nearer, I become more reluctant to enjoy my fourth-year bliss. In my head is the perpetual nag that chastises me on not filling my days with competitive electives, sucking up to big names, and rubbing shoulders with influential house staffs. Why am I sitting home reading novels when I should be running around gathering lab data like a true MS scut-monkey?

Some think of medicine as a life-calling, some as a steady income. I think of it as an inevitability. Because there is one track for me. As sure as I must eat, sleep, drink diet soda, call my mother on Sundays at 9PM. These are non-negotiable parts of my existence. Some ask me if I love medicine. I say love, whether it exists or not, is inconsequential.

Perhaps this plays into my procrastination, even avoidance of this application process. It leads to guilt, which I fully anticipate, but somehow am unwilling to overcome. Because it is inevitable as well. I think the guilt comes not from procrastination per se; rather it comes from the fact that I believe I am living falsely, but am unwilling and too fearful to truly find what will make me happy. Again, happiness is inconsequential, as is love. Necessity supercedes.

But I am not doing so poorly. I finished my comparison chart for the programs I plan to apply to. Happily my desire to remain in the city and its proximities narrows my choices for me. The personal statement is, for the most part, complete. The next step, I suppose, is finding the place that will make me the least unhappy. (or dare I hope, most happy.)