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When I was a much younger man and considering what I might do with my life, I considered many noble professions. Being a confirmed procrastinator, I was in no hurry. In 1969, looking at an escalating conflict in Vietnam, I watched the televised draft lottery with mildly focused interest. My number drawn that night was low — 105 to be precise. It was not a certain death sentence (which military service seemed to me at the time), but it was not a good number. My soon-to-be Mrs. Pessimist was more concerned than I. She appropriately asked, "What the hell are you going to do?"
I had no good answer, and so she asked: "Have you ever thought about going to medical school?" I replied, "There is no possible way I could get into medical school if I even applied." Wisely, she held her concerns to herself and married me anyway.
Her question continued to bother me as the war escalated, and being drafted became a very likely possibility. She was a nurse, and through her I met many medical students. Every student I met seemed to make a point of telling me that I really ought to go to medical school. (I suspect that Mrs. Pessimist had confided to their wives or girlfriends that I might need encouragement.)
So I finally went to the career guidance counselor at my university and asked if it was even possible for me to get into medical school. After he quit laughing, he listed all of the courses I would have to take in one year to make up for all of the liberal arts courses I had taken as an English literature major.
So I took all of them that year.
I still had one literature course that I had to take to graduate, but with all of the science courses and labs, the only course I could find that fit my schedule was a graduate-level course on Edmund Spenser, the author of The Fairy Queen, the longest poem in the English language. I firmly believe to this day it has never actually been read in its entirety by anyone. I do know it has something to do with chivalry and crusades.
My first year of medical school was a breeze compared to that last year of college. I doubt that those pre-med science courses helped me any more than The Fairy Queen, but they were the price of admission into my new career.
Discussion (11)
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I like this one a lot, relative to other @SouthernPessimist articles!
(I like the latter a lot, relative to all the articles I read.)
(As you can see, I find it difficult to express my praise for things that stand out from other things in a set of things that stand out from a set of other things. Let’s all say it together. One, two, three…”Nobody can ever understand you, Camper.”)
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One Sunday morning near Veterans' Day IIRC, Our pastor asked how many had been drafted. I was the only one to raise my hand. Makes you feel old. (Technically, I wasn't drafted because I joined the ANG, but I had the letter. My lottery number was in the low 30s.)
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I think my number was in the 120s in 1975, but it was such a loooooong time ago . . .
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This is great. I am always fascinated by people's stories of how they ended up doing what they're doing. There are some people who decide what they want to do early on and never stray from that path, but those people are rare. I think most people -- and I include myself in this -- make plans but end up changing course, maybe multiple times, based on whatever seems expedient at the time. Even people who are happy with where they ended up (like me) may well admit that they couldn't have predicted it.
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I wanted to go to medical school from the age of 16, at a time when admissions were fiercely competitive. I am surprised by Southern's nonchalance relating to admission, he must have had superb grades in English Lit.
My wife spent two years at Juilliard before becoming an RN, working in the ICU, and finishing up the requisite coursework for med school admissions. She tells the story that wherever she interviewed, the faculty made it plain to her that her non-traditional educational background was a big plus in her favor.
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