I like to think that everyone has a story, or rather a collection of them, that is the story of us, of who we are. For some people, their life stories might chronicle their adventures to the Amazon (the real Amazon, the one that appears on a map and doesn’t have a .com after it) and describe them swinging from tree to tree on vines. Although I would say that sounds suspiciously similar to Tarzan.
For most of us, though, our stories aren’t nearly so exciting (or unrealistic). Notice I how didn’t say as good. Because let’s be honest—getting kicked out of a boarding school and dropping out the next to work as a mechanic allows someone to learn a lot more about himself than reaching for the next vine while yelling AAAAAUGAHUGGGAUHHH!! Watch out for that tree, etc. I’m not sure where all these Tarzan jokes are coming from.
Neither the Amazon nor the life of a mechanic describes my story. It’s even less exciting.
As I stated up above, people have collections of life stories, so I am not naïve enough to attempt to tell you my whole life story in one sitting. We’d be here a while. Instead, I have opted to break it into chunks. Think of it as a mini-series. Only not on television. And not with attractive actors. And lower budget. But unlike a TV mini-series, this isn’t based on a true story—it is one.
This first “episode” will be about my bid for medical school as an undergraduate student. I realize there might be a bit of a limited audience for this one. Feel free to check back later for other episodes if you want something more to your liking—there will be plenty. Just don’t hold out for any vine-swinging.
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I’m sure at some point in my childhood if you’d asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up I would have said something like “fireman” or “police officer” just like many other little boys. But starting 8th grade at least I came to settle on a future career: A doctor of medicine.
When I applied to colleges, I only sent an application to one, and it was The Ohio State University. A number of factors went into this (which I will write a future blog about), but it’s a decision I’ve never regretted for an instant. I got in and was accepted into the honors program, which ended up generating perhaps a few ounces of regret later on, but I was very proud of it and happy about it at the time. I figured I was starting my college career on the right foot.
I was accepted out of high school at OSU as a chemistry major. Why chemistry? It seemed like a good pre-med major. But after I thought about it a bit, I decided chemistry wasn’t my absolute strongest point. Before I ever set foot on campus as an actual student, I changed it to bio-engineering. My father worked at OSU as a professor of engineering (albeit electrical, not biological), so I always had a profound respect for engineers. They were problem solvers. They were thinkers. They were do-ers. They seemed like a good pre-med major. Noticing a trend here? At any rate, when I started my first day of college, it was as an engineer.
The coursework wasn’t half-bad. College was hard, but it was nothing worse than my senior year of high school, which sadly was not the care-free year of senioritis that many people I’ve later met enjoyed. I liked having actual lab in chemistry at first (although later I became so frustrated with it that some friends and I created a group called Chemistry Makes Me Cry). The engineering classes specifically were neat too, as they allowed us to actually do stuff instead of just reading about doing stuff. But as I started to form a four-year pre-med plan, it quickly became obvious that engineering leaves little time for a minor. Or pre-med classes that don’t count towards the engineering major. Or sleep. So I changed majors again at the end of my freshman year to biology.
Guess what guided my choice? You guessed it—the perception of it being a good pre-med major. Biology is actually the number one choice by far among students seeking medical school. Virtually all of the required pre-med courses (which entails calculus, general chemistry, organic chemistry, physics, English, and strongly suggests a bunch more like psychology, genetics, biochemistry, anatomy, physiology… it’s a long list) can count for something in the biology program. Convenience doesn’t even describe it; integrating these classes into your major can literally take a year or more off the time it takes you to get a degree.
The sophomore year of pre-med students is probably the most difficult. As a sophomore, I went from nearly a 4.0 to not having a single A one quarter (OSU is just now transferring to semesters next academic year). I had also started a job as a Patient Care Companion (future blog topic #2), which was sucking up valuable hours I could have used studying, and being in the OSU Men’s Glee Club (future blog #3) was also taking up time. By the time I left OSU’s campus for my second summer, my GPA had dropped significantly, and I was feeling frustrated with school, work, and life in general. Not to mention my medical school chances were starting to drop as well.
Unfortunately, medical schools yawn at biology majors, I found out later. Fortunately, I was told and convinced much sooner than that.
As part of my job at the hospital, I occasionally worked in the ER. One night, I noticed someone there I recognized. It was a retired pre-medicine advisor of mine (we’ll call him Mr. Smith) a guy I’d only seen once for one of those 10-minute appointments that take 3 weeks to get. I wasn’t entirely sure at first, and he wasn’t even one of my patients, but when it hit 4:00 AM and things pretty much came to a crawl, I decided to walk over and ask him.
“Excuse me,” I said. “This is going to sound weird, but did you work at OSU at one point?”
“I was an advisor,” he replied. “Are you pre-med?”
So he had recognized me. “Yeah, I am! Do I look familiar to you?”
“No. But I couldn’t help but notice you were studying biochem earlier,” he said. “And before that it was calc. What’s your major?”
“Bio.”
“Do you want to be a biologist?” he asked me.
“No. But I figure it will look good to med schools,” I replied.
Mr. Smith chuckled a bit. “That’s your problem.”
“What?”
I was finally getting the advising appointment I’d never had time for. Mr. Smith, being quite bored (he had been waiting for hours), took great pains to tell me that doing a major “because it looks good” was not helping me. In fact, it was hurting me more than anything.
After a lengthy conversation, he convinced me that I needed to take on a major I was actually fully invested in. True, it would mean more work, but less burnout and more distinction on my med school application. And he was right.
I never did find out why he was there that night (due to HIPAA, you can’t look up the information for a patient you don’t have) but I’m sure glad he was. Whatever his issue was, it turned out not to be serious, because he was gone by the morning.
The very next day I emailed the head of the psychology department. I had always loved psychology and it seemed like the natural choice. By the time fall quarter started my junior year, I was officially a psych student. I got a 4.0 that quarter even though I was working more hours and taking more classes.
I certainly didn’t have an easy time for the next few years. Psychology as a general rule is easier than biology and it came naturally to me, but now I had a major that accepted almost none of my pre-med classes as counting for anything in psych. In addition to that, I had a handful of engineering courses that didn’t even count for anything pre-med. It translated to extending my time as an undergrad for two-thirds of a year.
But that was okay with me. It gave me time to start volunteering with a pre-med club, as a first aid services team member for Red Cross, and to do research in both a cardiopulmonary behavioral medicine (psychology) lab as well as a neuroscience lab. I also studied intensely for the Medical College Admissions Test (aka the infamous MCAT, the most challenging of all the admissions tests). And I continued to work at the hospital of course.
When my (super) senior year came, I applied to 10 medical schools and was invited to interview at 5 of them. My first interview was in October at Wright State University College of Medicine. It was a very nerve-wracking experience. I won’t go into all the details about how my first interviewer spoke English that was nearly impossible to decipher and how my second interviewer basically assumed an interrogation role (I’m surprised he didn’t strap me down and administer truth serum), but needless to say, I was flatly rejected.
Because this experience went so poorly, I was so nervous for my next interview at Wisconsin that November that I almost passed out during one of the sessions. I wasn’t rejected from there but effectively put on the “maybe” list, aka the waitlist. My other interviews went a little better. I was highly honored to interview at OSU’s own med school in January, where I was also waitlisted. Cincinnati invited me to interview in February, but since they offered no flexibility and I had a huge anatomy exam and lab practical that day, I had to say no thanks. I doubt they missed me.
I had just about given up hope when I was asked in March to interview at the University of Toledo School of Medicine. I went without much excitement and wound up with yet another interviewer that treated the consultation like an interrogation—and he went twice as long as it was scheduled for! I was surprised when I received a waitlist offer and not an outright rejection. I was even more surprised when a few weeks later, they sent a second letter, which I still have saved. It was one of acceptance.
I immediately got on my computer and crafted a response. I went to print it, but my printer was out of ink, so I had to go to the library before I could print it out and send it. The letter read as follows (and this is a copy-paste of the exact letter):
Dear Admissions Committee:
I would like to thank you for your offer into the 2011 College of Medicine class. I enjoyed visiting the school and interviewing back in March, and I hold the University of Toledo College of Medicine only in the highest regards. After much thought and introspection on my part, I have however decided to decline your offer. I know you have many other highly qualified applicants that will be happy to take my seat.
Thank you once again,
Bryan A Klein
It wasn’t just Toledo I was declining, you see. I had decided not to attend medical school. At all. For reasons that I will describe in another blog.
I realize that it’s a little disappointing, a story about a boy who spent nearly five years trying to get into med school only to turn down the offer when it came. But hopefully it’s not discouraging; if I could get into medical school, chances are you can too. If you want it. And technically I helped other people on the waitlist by saying no. Just a few days after I sent my response, one of my friends was told he’d been accepted from the waitlist. This may surprise you, but it was a happy ending for both of us.
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Well that went a bit long. I’m impressed if you read all of it. If you are a pre-med student (or future pre-med student), I’m sure this is of interest to you. And if you’re not, well, like I said there are more blogs on their way, and most of them not about school. So stay tuned.
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