The Beast

Well, the beast that is known as Step 1 is behind me. I am not totally out of the woods yet, as it might still be lurking poised, ready to strike again. During that gruesome eight hour test I was able to get a good head start at finding safety. I ran like hell and I am now taking a breather, hiding out in the comfort of my home with the false sense of security that I am safe. The beast could rear its ugly head again in 3 weeks time, at which point I may run away screaming like a baby or screaming the songs of victory. I hope I fooled it, lost it in the woods, and I am home free. When you are running away from a big terrible beast, you never really feel safe until you know the beast is dead. Once the beast closes its eyes, draws its last breath, and tilt its head to the side for the last time, then, and only then can you can finally feel safe from its wrath. Until that time, I am unsure of my fate.
After consulting/consoling with my fellow classmates and Step 1 warriors, we are all left feeling the same way: discouraged and disheartened. I have yet to talk to a person that feels perfectly confident of their performance. And if I meet said person, and they tell me they feel that confidant, I will know they are lying through their teeth. There is no way on Earth you can walk away from that test feeling like a rock star. I don’t see how. Maybe that is because I am not a rock star. I am your classically average student. Average in almost every way imaginable. Average height, average shoe size, slightly below average bra size, slightly above average age, and average grades. All around in general, an average girl and average student. Not that there is anything wrong with average. I happen to like it. When you’re average, you blend in with the crowd. This could be a good thing if I wanted to be say, a pick pocket, or a serial killer. Not that I want to be, but it’s nice to know I have options. If I were a 6 foot tall red head living in a predominately shorter hispanic southwest population, I would clearly stick out among the crowd and I would be less likely to have to the option to be deviant. I personally like to have the option for deviance, even though I, in my averageness would never do anything of the sort, except of course vicariously in my imagination.
In the meantime, we all wait patiently. Or impatiently as the case may be, for our results to arrive by post or email. These results will determine the rest of our lives. If we wanted to be that neurosurgeon and we received an average score, our future hope and dreams of success and happiness would be dashed down by a simple average 3 number score. I suppose the anxiety that is induced by the beast is due to its inherent nature. Its ability to control an unseen future. And as with most people, we are afraid of the unknown. The results we receive will be a combination of our study efforts, pure chance as to which subjects we are tested on, and how we felt that particular test day. If you woke up in a great mood, relaxed, and ready to conquer the beast, you probably did much better than the person that woke up from a horrible nights sleep, anxious, and scared. The thing that I find to be particularly frightening about the notion of the beast, is that like any battle, you’ve only got one chance to prove your worth and valor. You fight as valiantly as you can given the circumstances and if it turns out you did mediocre, well then that mediocrity is with you forever. If you happen to fail at battle then you are given the chance for a rematch, however, that mark is also with you for eternity. So even though you may walk away from the second attempt like a victorious champion, “they” will know you had a second chance, and it will discredit you.
Welcome to the competitive world of medicine my friends. Are you prepared for the fight, regardless of the outcome? I hope so. I know I am.