The path to acceptance In mid-August, eager to get the paperwork over with before lectures, labs, study groups, rotations, board exams, and an endless stream of 20 ounce cups began, I paid a visit to administration. I went to the health center, dropped off forms at student affairs, went on to public safety. That's September 2004. The badge is more than a new identity. Odd to think that the adventure of getting into medical school it's taken my entire life is only the beginning.
Most people have their straight path twisted by hobbies, jobs, family, and friends.
Mine was a gauntlet of doubts, failures, and successes that resembles the board of Chutes and Ladders. A scout leader might call it character building. It began long before the Princeton Review. I would never forget the midnight trips to the dairy and horse farms near us in rural northwestern Connecticut to help my father deliver a calf or treat a colicky horse. My father's practice turned me on to medicine, but I dreamed of working with people.