If you've been diligently keeping up with my day-by-day posts, stretching your patience like a rubber band about to snap, you, Faithful Reader, should have some idea of just how incredible my journey to South America was.
Some idea.
In truth, it's hard to put into words just how life-changing that trip was for me. My first time experiencing a culture radically different from America's. My first time even leaving the States. My first real hands-on medical experience. My first time seeing an underdeveloped part of the world, where internet is a luxury and not a necessity; where people don't have ambitions or strive for success in a dog-eat-dog fashion -- they work to survive, to provide for their family; they work because it's the only life they've ever known, spanning back hundreds, even thousands of years.
And the students...
If there's one thing you should have noticed in my pictures throughout the posts it's how diverse the group of students were. They came from all over the globe, and if they didn't, they had roots in Lebanon, or Malaysia, or Singapore, or Bolivia, or India, or...you get it...
But what amazed me the most about that group was that, despite everyone's aesthetic differences, despite their varying external qualities, their family tree, their region of origin, they all shared a core of traits: a passion and aptitude for helping others, and a desire to have fun doing it. They were college kids, just like me. They knew how to crack jokes, tell stories, strike up conversation, and, above all, they knew how to have a good time.
The students surpassed any expectations I may have had. Amiable, affable, charismatic, caring, bright, merry, intelligent, loving, empathetic, patient, and just downright fun. I never imagined that the people I would be working with would have as much impact on me as the cultural observation. But they did, oh, they did.
My gratitude for the Medlife experience was exacerbated by the critical juncture in my life at which the trip occurred.
And here comes my confession.
I didn't get into med school on my first try. Some of you know this. A lot of you don't. I apologize to those I've lied to or told half-truths. I had to save face, surely you understand that, but I should have been candid and open, faced facts, which is what I'm doing now.
Out of the 11 schools I applied to, only one decided to interview me -- UND. I had the grades. I had the MCAT score. I didn't have the clinical experience. But most importantly, I didn't have the mindset, and the interviewers could see that easily.
I've always been an arrogant person, ever since I was a kid. If I had something to brag about back then, I would without blinking. If I knew something someone else didn't, I'd tell them. I learned to control my tongue and actions in high school, but the arrogance was still very much alive.
Freshman year of college put me in my place a bit (the concept of studying was new to me). I survived, emerged a less selfish and more patient young man, and humbled...temporarily.
Soon enough, I climbed back on top of that pedestal of old. It came time to apply to med school, and there was little doubt in my mind I would be accepted somewhere, and I could have guaranteed you I would get into UND.
But as each med school denied me an interview ("Thanks for applying, hope all goes well in future endeavors."), the splinter of doubt I'd had grew into a log. There was still UND, my fallback, my Plan J, my shoe-in school.
They didn't accept me either. When I went in to see why (where could I have possibly gone wrong?), the number one thing was lack of clinical experience. Understandable, I could see that. The second largest reason was my arrogance. At first I was taken aback by that, but then I thought about it and saw how it true it was. They called me out, saw me for what I was -- a conceited buffoon who thought he could charm his way into med school.
That was one of the rare cases where proving someone wrong made me feel terrible. I proved them wrong, alright, everyone who had told me "Oh, Seth, you'll get in for sure!" My friends. My family. My extended family. It seemed like everyone in Grand Forks would find out that Seth Zygarlicke didn't get into med school.
I had somewhat of a crisis then. Was medicine really what I wanted to do with my life? Should I even reapply? What am I going to tell people? I dreaded any thoughts of admitting my failure to people. How embarrassing. How shamefully embarrassing. I needed to leave. I needed get out of that town and escape all of its reminders of how I'd failed.
Then the Medlife email popped up in my inbox, in March. It sounded perfect. Not only would I be fleeing from Grand Forks, I'd also be gaining some medicinal experience. On top of it all, I'd have a fresh start with kids from all over the nation. They wouldn't know me, wouldn't know my shortcomings or past or reputation or anything. I eagerly signed up for the trip, though that eagerness diminished slightly when I checked the Medlife email list, saw how prestigious most of the schools were and became daunted, intimidated (the idea of spending a week with 20+ Harvard kids did not appeal to me). I had already been brought so low, now I was being handed a shovel and told to start digging.
I set out anyway, with a morsel of apprehension. But when I met Lauren in the Quito airport and found out she was from Harvard, any angst was eviscerated. Lauren? From Harvard? But, she's just like me...how's that possible? Throughout the week of clinic I noticed how everyone was eerily similar to me, but much more genuine. More authentic. Like being surrounded by 64 versions of my ideal self (except for this one guy from USC, he was kind of a douche, by most accounts).
Working with that diverse bunch motivated me, inspired me, changed me for the better. There's a load of psych research that's shown "Attitudes follow behavior." Acting like those kids, doing what they did, following their example, basking in their presence...behaving like them led my attitudes to change. I felt (and feel) more genuine. I felt (and feel) more humble. My desire for pursuing medicine was never so strong, so doubt-free as it was during that trip, and it's carried over to my everyday life (though it will take some work to maintain). I know for the first time in my life that this truly is what I want to do for the rest of my life.
In hindsight, I'm somewhat glad I wasn't accepted. In fact I'm very glad. If I had been accepted, I never would have gone to Ecuador, never would have met Lauren, or Lauren, or Lauren, or Eddie, or Pete, or Franchesca, or Tiffany, or Preston, Keon, Michael, Ryan, Austin, Sylvia....never would have been inspired, never would have been humbled, never would have so positively and fundamentally changed the way I approach the world.
I think the real reason it took me as long as it did to write about my trip there was this post. It's been in the back of my mind since I started writing the series. But it's out now, leaving me with a bittersweet aftertaste, as doing the right thing often does. Now, I'm just focused on preventing history from repeating itself.
Thanks for your understanding, Faithful Reader.
With July should also come a more regular blog schedule akin to the pre-Ecuador days.
¡Buenos días!
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