How I Got into Med School

Hello and welcome to my very first post! It's so great to have you here. I've been thinking about starting a blog for the longest time, and finally (with a little push from my very supportive boyfriend), I'm finally doing it. If not for anyone else, then at least for myself, as a little time capsule of memories to look back on when I eventually graduate med school.

So, where do I begin?

I guess I should start by explaining how I got into medical school, because I think it's a good story. You see, for a little while there I didn't think I could do it - I began looking at other career options and seriously considering doing something else, this was by no means the most straightforward path. To be honest, I'm not sure I would recommend the way that I did it to everyone, because it takes a certain kind of person to subject themselves to what I have done to myself. But enough talking ABOUT the story, let me TELL the story, which actually starts with my dad.

My dad is a born and bred kiwi who grew up in a small town near Rotorua in rural New Zealand. My mom is a born and bred Canadian (note the spelling of 'mom,' I was not allowed to spell it any other way growing up - hi mom if you're reading this), who grew up in the small town of Tsawassen, Vancouver. You might wonder how two small town kids on opposite sides of the planet got married and had me? Well, reader, they met in Sydney (the geniuses among you will connect the dots). Long story short, mom was travelling NZ and Aus, and dad was in Aus for rugby, and they met in a youth hostel in Sydney. Two years of long distance letter writing later (there weren't even emails in those days, sheesh), my dad moved to Vancouver to be with her. They got married, had my brother, and then had me less than two years later.

At this point, my dad had been a plumber, mechanic, carpenter, professional rugby player, completed a degree in Forestry from the University of British Columbia, and started a physiotherapy degree, which he hated. He made the decision to switch to medicine, but for complicated reasons, he couldn't do so in Canada. So, with a two year old, a three year old, and $5 to their name, my parents shipped their lives back to New Zealand, with the promise of moving back to Canada when dad finished med school (spoiler alert, I'm 26 and still very much living in NZ). My brother turned four on the plane and the pilot invited him into the cockpit to celebrate, but, my brother was a scaredy-ass little b*tch when he was a kid, and he didn't go. They don't even let you do that anymore, so he truly missed out on a once in a lifetime opportunity. He's 28 now and we still give him sh*t for it.

Anyway, so we moved to NZ, dad started med school, my mom was the MOST patient wife and mother for his entire degree, taking care of us on the smell of an oily rag (this is not the right saying for this situation but you get what I mean. We were dirt poor) for those six years he was in school. I don't remember being poor, so they hid it well, but the stories they've told us since we've become adults make me so glad that I'm not trying to do med school AND be a parent right now. Don't get me wrong, people do it, and I have plenty of people in my cohort with kids - I just can barely look after myself let alone small children. I digress.

As dad progressed through school my brother and I grew up. I remember helping dad practise tying surgical knots on the clothes horse in our (very cold, very damp - like I said, dirt poor) living room, I remember him listening to my heart with his stethoscope, and in later years he even took out all the various stitches my brother and I got (my head, his feet - stories for another time). I think being exposed to this at such a young age was influential in my career choice, because even as a 10 year old I was the one desperate to take out splinters or dress and bandage my friends wounds. I have grown up being told 'Oh Sydney, you are JUST like your father.'

When I finished high school I got into first year biomed at UoA. This was 2015, which simultaneously feels like yesterday and a century ago. I did not do well in that year. My grades were terrible, I had grown up being 'special,' and 'gifted,' and not really needing to try hard to get good grades. This didn't fly at uni, and I got some of the worst grades of my career in that first year. This was a huge blow to my ego, so naturally I went around telling everyone who would listen that I didn't want to do med anyway (lie), and that I wanted to explore other options in science (bigger lie). If you know anything about first year biomed, you'll know that you need to maintain at least an A- average to even be considered for an interview into medicine, and I didn't have anywhere near that. I finished out the year without even applying for med, so that way I could at least tell everyone that I didn't apply, not that I didn't get in.

I finished a bachelor of science majoring in physiology in 2017, but felt more lost and unfulfilled than ever. I didn't know what I was doing, or what I wanted to do next. I wasn't ready to join the real world or get a real job. I still lived with my parents and I felt too much like a child to make any big decisions. My best friend (who is my flatmate now - more on that later), did very very well in our undergraduate degree, and was offered a scholarship to do an honours degree. I wasn't about to be left behind, so I applied to do one alongside her, and was accepted with a concession as my GPA was JUST shy of the cut off.

I started my honours in 2018, but for some reason this year it was like someone had lit a firecracker under my ass. I studied harder than I have ever studied before. I put long, long hours into my project, went in on weekends, got my supervisor to proofread my assignments before I submitted them, and organised group study sessions with my friends. I worked so, so hard that year, and came out top ranked student doing a physiology honours. I turned my 4.8 GPA into an 8.3. My honours year could be a whole post in itself, which I might do later (*writes down in post idea list*), but it really did help me figure out how to be good at something. At the end, though, I still didn't feel like I was ready to do anything proper, and still, I had no idea what I even wanted to pursue. I had toyed with the idea of applying for med as a postgraduate now that my GPA had improved, but by the time I properly considered it the UCAT had already passed. It wasn't an option. At UoA if you have a GPA over 8 you automatically get offered a scholarship to complete a postgraduate degree. So began my masters year.

In 2019, I started my masters, and boy could this be several posts on its own. My masters was the hardest, most emotionally, mentally, and academically challenging year of my life thus far. Pre-clinical years certainly rival it, but boy was this a rough 12 months for little old me. I will explain more about this in a future post with many names anonymised, but just know that it is a big and touchy subject for me. My project was relatively straightforward, and I worked pretty hard at it (nowhere near as hard as in my honours though). I finished my thesis from an Airbnb in New York City, where I was staying with my boyfriend at the time. Like I said, several posts worth on its own. I ended up getting an A+ and incredible feedback, which brought my GPA up to a nice, round 9. More than enough to qualify for medicine. Maybe it was an option after all.

After submitting my thesis, I had three blissful days of travel in New York City before covid reared its ugly head and sent us back to NZ and straight into level 4 lockdown. While I, like the rest of us, enjoyed baking bread, reading books, going on government-mandated walks, doing home workouts, and having movie marathons with my now-adult family, I spent many, many hours agonising over what to do next. I had no source of income as I had quit my job prior to spending three months in North America. I had finished my masters. People were being laid off left right and centre so applying for jobs was useless. I had nothing going for me. Thankfully I also had no expenses as I had moved back in with my parents (they were thrilled to have my recently-single brother and me home), but I also had no purpose. I picked up a lot of hobbies like knitting, crocheting, painting, and drawing, all of which now lay abandoned in the room of my parents house that I no longer occupy, but I got no closer to deciding what I actually wanted to pursue as a career. I tried to figure out what I could do with my masters that wasn't a career in research, because believe me when I tell you, I HATED it. Turns out, a whole lot of nothing.

The world reopened in June/July, and I got a job at the rock climbing gym I went to with a friend once a week. Little did I know this would absolutely change my life. It is so weird to look back on now, knowing how far I have come and how much climbing has shaped who I am (another post for later *adds to list*). I was hired on the spot, and ended up increasing my 8 contracted hours a week to a full time job, which helped immensely with my income problem. I did this for about 10 months, still knowing that working in a rock climbing gym was not the dream job I had envisioned for myself. The idea of med school still lurked in the back of my mind, but a taste of being as poor as I was post-travel and during lockdown had poisoned me against it. I quashed these feelings and began looking elsewhere for what I should do next. My other best friend had been working at a recruitment agency and found an advertisement for a job at a medical clinic in East Auckland, which she helped me get. I worked there for about 8 or 9 months, most closely with the nurses, whom I loved, but all the while gazing longingly after the doctors, wishing I could be them. My primary role was to assist with the covid vaccination scheme, and there was one incident where I had to assist someone feeling ill after their jab that solidified it for me. I knew I was meant to be a doctor. I began the process of applying for med school the following day.

I made the decision not to tell my parents, nor that many people at all, to be fair, about any of the application process. I lied about where I was on the day of my UCAT exam, I fudged reasons for why I needed information about my Fijian heritage (more on the MAPAS programme later (*adds to list*)), and I silently prepared for my interview. I received my acceptance letter in mid-December, and surprised my parents with it over breakfast on Christmas Day. My cousin and brother filmed their reactions, and this is a video I have watched probably over a hundred times over the past two years as motivation to keep going. It's been rough, but I will discuss that in detail in future posts.

So, that's kind of the intro into how I found myself in medical school in my mid twenties. It's not easy, but as they say, if it were easy everyone would do it. I am starting my clinical placement at Middlemore Hospital in January of 2024, and I thought this would be a great time to start documenting my journey. It's insane to think I have already completed two years of the degree I spent years yearning for. They tell you that these years will fly by and they're damn right. I feel like I was preparing for my interview last week and now I'm going into 4th year - which means I'm over halfway through the programme. Time flies when you're (stressed the fuck out) having fun!

Stay tuned for more posts about everything med school. I'll see you very soon.

Ciao for now,

Sydney