Hello? Is anyone still there?
Ahem. Apparently, I’m not so good at blogging consistently (read: at all) while employed as a Biglaw Cog. A year and a half into this position and I’m still figuring it all out. But inconsistent blogging or not, we’ve had some very exciting events around here lately and I’m determined to make the time to record them here!
March 17th was the day R and I have been anticipating for nearly four years – Match Day!
For those of you who haven’t had the ‘pleasure’ of putting a spouse through medical school, let me explain. Beginning in the fall of their fourth year, med students fly all around the country, begging residency programs to accept them. Then all of the students and all of the residencies make lists of their favorites. (Think of it as being the world’s most expensive and anxiety-driven Greek Rush. Only here, if you don’t get accepted, your college career isn’t shot, your life career is shot. And if you do get accepted, you don’t get to attend theme parties, you get to work ridiculous hours for highway robbery pay.) Finally, the students wait around for several agonizing months while some computer processes all of the lists and spits out the Ideal Match for each student and residency program.
On March 17th (St. Patrick’s Day!), all the med students in the entire country gather at their schools and countdown. At the stroke of 12 pm Eastern, everyone gets their residency match. Some people are elated – “first choice!” – and some people are not – “I’m moving where for the next five years?!?”
So obviously, after R’s cross-country interview travels and the looming threat of my having to take another bar exam, we were really ready for Match Day to arrive.
Our day started with brunch at a friend’s place, where all of the med students tried to look nonchalant, all of the spouses and significant others whispered about the possibility of having to move, and green jello shots and beers were passed around like candy.
We swung by our apartment to pick up the family members and headed to campus, where the students lined up in their white coats for a group photo.
Listen – if you want to know what true frustration is, watch a lone photographer trying to convince a bunch of sloppy drunk med students to look sober enough for one picture.
It took a very. long. time.
After the photos, we headed to the main medical school building. At Emory, they lay out tables full of envelopes and line the students up several feet from the tables. At 12, all of the students rush at the table and grab the envelope with their name on it. I have no photos of this process, because the mass chaos made it impossible to get within 30 feet of the tables.
So we sat, huddled and nervous, waiting for R to make his way back to our little group.
Finally, he reached us with his envelope. Hand’s shaking, he ripped it open, fumbled with the paper inside, and yelled:
“EMORY!”
That’s right, Atlanta. We’re sticking around for another three years!
We were thrilled, as Emory pediatrics was far and away R’s first choice. Great program, great people, great mentors, no moving, no more bar exams, close to both of our families. March 17th and the scary Rush computer treated us well.
After the adrenaline subsided and we munched on the appetizers put out by the school, we took a group shot and headed for lunch at Capozzi’s to celebrate properly. Emory pediatrics – whew!
