Med School

 People love to say medical school is like a marathon. Honestly, I couldn’t disagree more. A marathon is long, grueling, and yes, a test of endurance, but it’s also steady, predictable, and methodical. You know what you're getting into when you run a marathon. But med school? Med school is a roller coaster designed by an engineer who might need a psych eval. One minute, you're cruising along, feeling in control, and the next, you're thrown into a loop you never saw coming, and before you know it, you're upside down. The highs are exhilarating, the lows are enough to make you dizzy, and everything moves so fast that months blur into "blocks." And just like a roller coaster, it doesn’t stop for bad weather. Rain or shine, wind or snow, the ride keeps going—just like med school does, no matter what life throws at you. 

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I don’t remember my first year by seasons or holidays—I remember it by what was happening in each block. Oh, right, I got broken up with in cardio. I went to New York in renal. My roommate got a cat during Heme. Life events and organ systems? Neatly cataloged side by side. It’s both unsettling and strangely efficient. 

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The all-consuming nature of med school is real. In the days leading up to an exam, everyday activities—showering, eating, making your bed—become distant memories. But the second you hit "submit," the roller coaster slows just enough for you to breathe again and remember you’re still a person. You finally get the chance to wash your hair, cook a proper meal, and do that Peloton workout you promised yourself you'd get back to. One moment, you're tachycardic with a tension migraine, and the next, you're outside, feeling the winter air on your face, oddly at peace during a run by Lake Michigan. 

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Six blocks in, I've learned more than I ever thought possible—yet I still feel like I’m missing pieces. Every day, there’s something I don’t know, something I fumble through in clinic, some mechanism of action that totally slips by me. But that’s the thing—you can't know it all. And that’s okay. You just keep learning, adapting, and reminding yourself that being confused is part of the process. 

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But if med school is a roller coaster, the best part is the people on the ride with me. I look around at my classmates—my fellow passengers—and I’m incredibly proud. Some I know better than others, but I have no doubt that they will all become phenomenal doctors. Some are meticulous, some are deeply empathetic, some are fueled by pure grit—but all of them inspire me. They make me want to work harder, push through the chaos, and keep going, side by side. And knowing that, in about a decade, we’ll all be doing this for real together? That’s the kind of realization that makes the roller coaster worth it and has me curving my lips, almost into a smile, because for now, I’m just enjoying the ride.