I'm on the floor with my head cradled into my pillow. I'm dragging in slow but shallow breaths, smelling the scent of leave-in hair conditioner that has diffused into the pillow cover since last washing it several weeks ago.
There's a bottle of extra strength Excedrin and a bottle of antacids sitting on the table that I was previously sitting at. They've done nothing. My head hurts and my stomach hurts and I don't know why. Or rather, I either gave myself food poisoning via homemade balsamic vinaigrette for a delicious salad eaten midday or I am so stressed out that my body is forcing me to give up on what was previously a fun challenge:
Write the Great American Personal Statement.
I believe my psychogenic pain is telling me it's impossible.
Tomorrow I will have to submit 28 to 30 applications (depending on if I delete/add any new programs in the next 24 hours) to family medicine residency programs that are literally all around the country. Or maybe I'll splurge and apply to 75 programs, like some people I know who are applying to more difficult specialties. They will shell out more than $3,000. But the common motto is: "It's cheaper than having to apply next year." Implying that many of us won't get interviews and ultimately match unless we apply far and wide and broadly because we're.... what? Not motivated? Not dedicated? Not humane? No the answer is "less competitive." But what the hell is competitive? I don't know. I really don't. It's different for every specialty and every program within that specialty.
Each application will include a copy of my personal statement. The Great American Personal Statement.
Oh hell. And then there's the added anxiety that is trying to end up in the same location as my significant other who is also going to attempt to match this year. The likelihood of us matching in the same geographic location is so... unlikely that honestly we should probably just break-up right now and stop prolonging a fantasy that is doomed to fail.
Unless I can write the Great American Personal Statement.
Because then maybe I'll get interviews everywhere.
And then all my dreams will come true. I'll become an awesome resident who will have an awesome career, and despite it being "impossible" to have a private practice, I will have one. I will have it all.
But literally, only if I write the Great American Personal Statement.
So I'm whimpering through and over-analyzing every sentence, every paragraph, every idea, every phrase. This is impossible. Everything's impossible. What is medicine? Why am I doing this?
Because I'm a smart young adult willing to dedicate my life to years like this last one. With days like this one. Spent over analyzing the smallest of details. Because I want to improve the lives of those around me. Because I want to serve communities in a way that will make lives healthier, happier, and more productive.
Because I want to be happy with the life I've lived. I want to die knowing that what I have accomplished has made a difference in this world, if only for a moment in the grand scheme of things. But that I've effected change. That I've made others happy.
Oh my god. I'm crying. I'm literally crying right now. Because all I want is to help people. Which sounds so stupid and has been said so many goddamn times. But it's true. Why can't I just write that? Why can't I just put that in my personal statement? The Great f***ing American Personal Statement. I want to help people. My name is Elora Apantaku and I will literally do everything I can to help people until the day I die.
