Stumbling

Cassidy Meza, MS2

“I just… stumbled my way into medical school.” That was my feeling about attending medical school when I first began. What I really meant was that I am a non-traditional medical student. Instead of going from my undergraduate right into MSU CHM, or even undergraduate to scribe work to MSU CHM, I took another path. I lived abroad in India, then spent several years as a kindergarten teacher in Detroit and finally attended a post-baccalaureate program before “stumbling” into where I am now. And truly, that was how it felt to me: definite serendipity.

Fast forward, I started my two weeks of immersion clinic in the village of Croswell; a rural, 4-room clinic in the thumb region of Michigan. Full of excitement in getting to see my first patients, the last thing on my mind on this first day was how I got to where I was. That thought however, seemed to be at the forefront of the doctor’s mind. I answered the usual questions about where I was from, what specialty I was interested in and what requirements I had to complete as an unusual first-year student in a clinic. On the second day, he asked the other, more encompassing, question. Why medicine? I’d be loath to leave out that I used to hate this question. I found it shallow, unoriginal and deep down; it poked at my insecurity that, as a non-traditional student, I didn’t really belong where I was. That I “stumbled” here and was of a lesser quality than those who took a traditional path. Yet, instead of giving a shallow and unoriginal answer, I explained my years leading up to now, sprinkling in a few medical anecdotes. Since I didn’t answer his question directly, I earned an additional urging of “why medicine?”

“Honestly, I always wanted to be in medicine; I just took a while to get there. I didn’t love anything I did until now.”

He sat back, and in my mind, he seemed satisfied with my answer. And he probably was because the conversation didn’t turn back to me until day four. On that day, he told me I was different and that I didn’t think like other medical students. I thought more like an educator. As a student just coming up on my seventh week of school, I hastily apologized for my “non-traditional” ways. He cut me off swiftly, insisting it was a great thing. “The Krebs cycle,” I had to flick through the Rolodex of my mind to even remember what that was, “doesn’t make you a great doctor. Being kind and taking the time to teach your patients about their health and bodies makes the doctor great.” And on the surface, I knew he was right, and really, most people would agree with him as well. I nodded, of course, to the doctor and we went on with our day.

By the fifth day, I was much more comfortable with the work and patients could tell. They began to ask me about myself: where I’m from, where I grew up and what I’m doing here. Most people took the answers at face value: I came from Michigan State medical school, I grew up on a farm outside of Lansing and I was getting rural clinical experience so I could become a rural physician. Occasionally, I added a few details, like having been a teacher. To my surprise, I kept hearing the same response, “sounds like you got a mini-me, Doc!” And each time, I would look over at him in confusion. He was from the area, had gone to a different medical school and although his wife had been a teacher, he definitely hadn't. Later that day, I got an explanation. He, too, had grown up on a farm. He, too, did not go straight into medical school. Most importantly, he, too, had been a non-traditional student. In broad strokes, I was indeed looking at myself. Seeing that, I took my chance to ask the question I was dying to know.

“Did you ever feel like you stumbled into medicine? Like you were just lucky to be there?” He put down the forms in his hand and looked at me seriously and honestly, frighteningly. Had I said the wrong thing? Triggered him? Insulted him?

“Look at me,” his eyes softened, “people like us… we not only deserve to be here, but we are absolutely necessary. We know what it’s like for patients going through hard times. We think differently and add a new, critical perspective. We did not stumble and we are not lucky.” He paused and added a qualifier, “well, maybe a little, but no more than other physicians. You and I worked just as hard, if not harder, to get here. Don’t discount yourself because your path isn’t the one more traveled,” he was quoting literature, as I knew by now he loved to do, “look up the garden quote by Marianne Wilson or Walter or some W-name I don’t remember. You’ll like it.” We still had the rest of the afternoon that day and then I drove almost three hours back to East Lansing. The next day, I was recovering from the long week and it wasn’t really until Sunday I remembered my “homework.” I read Marianne Williamson’s quote out loud to myself, “A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone. It doesn’t struggle to be different from a rose. It doesn’t have to. It is different. And there’s room in the garden for every flower.”

I finished out the next week in the clinic with a different mindset. I belonged. I was different from many other students. I still am different, with sometimes a wildly different perspective. And that is okay. Better yet, it’s great and will make me a great physician, just as the doctor said and just as he is.

About the Author:

I grew up on a farm on the outskirts of Lansing, Michigan. We had all kinds of animals; cows, chickens, sheep, rabbits, dogs, cats-- you name it, we had it. And from that, I grew to love caretaking. When I was 16, I was off to the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. I tried out many different outlets for this drive to take care of living beings. I nannied, assisted in schools, volunteered with health education, and dabbled in botany and animal sciences. Ultimately, after finishing my bachelor's degrees in Biology, Health & Society and Biopsychology, Cognition & Neuroscience, I signed up to not only volunteer in Salokaya School of Nursing in Delhi, India, but also for Teach for America to teach English Language Learners and Kindergarteners. During my time as a teacher, I felt the call back to health and health education and decided to apply to medical school. After an acceptance to the year-long ABLE program at Michigan State University College of Human Medicine, I swifty met and fell in love with my husband. We are now both second-year students who enjoy spending time with our two dogs and cat, exploring new cities and trying new foods!

About the Work:

This is an essay describing my feelings of being underrepresented in medical school and then working with a physician who was similar to me. It changed my outlook on belonging and truly helped to fight the "Imposter Syndrome" that so many medical students struggle with.