::::: The Rejected :::::

[everyadam]

After spending 4 years away at university, I had no choice but to come home to a family that uses screaming as their method of conversing with people. Lovely. The lack of freedom, the sharing of the bathroom, and the rotating car schedule is just what I needed. Last year I decided to apply to dental school even though deep down I knew I wanted to be a doctor. Needless to say I didn’t get into the 10 US dental schools that I applied to. Looking back there were plenty of things I did wrong. I didn’t send in my secondaries which is apparently a “no no.” I sabotage myself every time I wrote that damn dental admissions test by studying less and less each time and by scheduling my test date in the midst of midterms or finals. Given the effort, I did pretty well, well above national average but one section screwed me over and over again: The PAT. I obviously didn’t put in the effort even though I knew I was capable of getting in.

My last year of university I decided to take a bunch of biology courses and wished I had gone into biology because it was so damn easy. Once again I got to exercise my right to study the night before and it paid off every time! Taking a bunch of bio/anatomy courses made me realize what my passion was all along: Medicine. O and I did apply to dental school again just for the hell of it. Got rejected, but this time it was due to an unusual competitive applicant pool. Although I did make it in the top 4% at one of the schools I applied to. I have to say though, when I got that rejection letter, I went through denial, anger, and then sadness, and then back to anger! I think the problem with dental school is that there aren’t enough schools out there as oppose to medicine. I think one has a better chance of getting into medicine than dental school.

So here I am waiting and waiting for my last life line to be cut. I can’t tell you how nerve wracking and annoying waiting for a decision that could change the rest of your life! But, I know I’m not the only one and I guess I have to suck it up and stop being a whiny little bitch and wait just like everybody else. Not many people get the chance to apply to medicine so I have to keep telling myself that to make me feel better. OK, I’m done bitching for now.

You can read more at therejected.solojourney.org

[everyadam]

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OK since the month of August is almost over, I thought I’d get a head start on my Reject of the Month article for September. I know what you’re thinking, how can anyone reject this cute little puppy? Well every year millions of puppies and kittens end up at the local pound because their mothers were sluts. And every year these precious animals get put to sleep because nobody wants them. It’s sad, I know. Can you imagine spending your entire life trapped in a cage while watching people come in only to discover that they end up taking your hopes with them when they leave? So what can you do? In the words of Bob Barker, do society a favor and “have your pets spade or neutered.”

I got my puppy from my local animal shelter. She had a gimp right hind leg which of course only added more personality. We knew that she wasn’t a “pure bred” but had a good ol’ time figuring out what the hell she was at the time. We came up with the conclusion that she was a mix between a poodle and terrier so we named her Perrier. Sadly, we had to put her to sleep 6 years later when we found out she was battling epileptic episodes. It was just too painful to watch her go through that.

Getting a pet from the pound is great because most of the time they come with all their shots taken plus they’re spaded or neutered. So you don’t have to worry about your bitch getting knocked up! In some ways I believe that these animals love you more because you’re choosing them to live.

[everyadam]

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My brother is moving to a metropolitan city tomorrow to start his four year journey at university. Growing up, my brother and I never really got along but in some ways we are very much a like. When we were little, my sister and I would pick on him constantly because he was the youngest and quite frankly we were really bored. One time we found some random picture of a kid in a really ugly brown sweat suit posing with what we assumed was his mother and somehow convinced my brother that it was him in the picture….. O and that he was adopted. He cried for days. We laughed for years. The kid didn’t even remotely look like him.

My brother and I are 5 years apart which makes it hard for me to connect with him on any level other than our fondness for arguing. It just seems like he’s going to where I was 5 years ago. In elementary school and high school I had my name engraved on so many awards. Years later my brother would have his turn. I was good at sports, so he became good at sports. I had high grades, so he had to “one-up” me even if it meant by one per cent. Needless to say we were very competitive.

So what would I tell my brother or a younger version of me who’s about to embark on a journey that I just finished and could very well turn out to be the best thing that could happen to him? I would tell him to stop and breathe once in a while, enjoy the moment because you’ll never get it back, pay attention to your friends, know what your priorities are, hard work will pay off, believe in yourself, don’t ask for advice from people who don’t know what the hell they’re talking about (i.e. guidance counselors), and get to know people who are much wiser than you are (not necessarily older). Will I tell him any of this? I’ve tried. But if he’s anything like me, he hasn’t listened to a damn word I’ve said.

[everyadam]

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It could be that I have too much time on my hands, but a couple of weeks ago I noticed a mole just below my left shoulder, near my rock hard pectoral muscle. Naturally I started to think that it was the beginning of skin cancer and started freaking out knowing fully that it could have been there all along, nonetheless I freaked out anyway. So I did what most people would do after thinking that this really tiny, dark, round, flat spec on their body was going to grow into this huge cancerous tumor – I started poking at it.

After poking it for awhile, I carefully monitored it closely over the next couple of days. I think I wanted to believe that this thing had grown a nanometer each day and that it was eventually going to get so big that I’m going to have to move to a third world country to fit in with the hypothyroidic tribe because I’m going to have this huge mass on my shoulders. O and god forbid a hair grows out of it. Have you ever seen people with a huge ass mole on their neck with this long hair growing out of it? All you can do is stare and shake your head while wondering why the hell haven’t they gotten it removed. I don’t want to be one of those people. And then the unthinkable happened – the damn thing began to itch. It might have been because I had poked it repeatedly but still I’m not going to take any chances.

I finally made an appointment with my family doctor. I really hate my family doctor. He is like the most miserable person I have come across in healthcare. He obviously does not enjoy what he does and you can just see it all over his face – his wrinkly sagging face. I see how primary care can literally suck the life out of you and I don’t intend on going into primary care (but first I have to get into medical school). I think the truth behind his misery is because he couldn’t get into a competitive residency and here he is stuck in FP. Anyway, my appointment is in 3 weeks because he’s apparently booked until then. I need a referral to see a specialist, but in 3 weeks time, I could be dead. This thing could spread to my lymph nodes by then and I could really be in deep doo doo.

In the meantime I started to read up on the symptoms of skin cancer. Here are some of the symptoms I’ve found:

A basal cell carcinoma (BCC) usually looks like a raised, smooth, pearly bump on the sun-exposed skin of the head, neck, or shoulders. Ok mine doesn’t look like that. It’s more flat.

A squamous cell carcinoma (SCC) is commonly a well-defined, red, scaling, thickened patch on sun-exposed skin. Uhhh, definitely NOT.

The majority of malignant melanomas are brown-to-black pigmented lesions. The appearance of a new mole during adulthood, or new pain, itching, ulceration, or bleeding of an existing mole should be checked. This is what made me make an appointment with a doctor.

So I guess this is just another result I have to sit and wait for. I think I’m going to name my mole “UTAS.” Once again, I have too much time on my hands.

[everyadam]

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I grew up in a working class family. Although my parents knew the importance of higher education, they never attended University. Back then it was easy to find a job with great benefits and a nice retirement plan without an education. Nowadays, you see some graduates work at McDonald’s. My parents never really forced me to want more for myself. It was me who put the pressure on me to not follow in their footsteps. I truly believe that they’d be happy if I worked at a minimum wage job the rest of my life, just as long as I have a job. What bothers me is that a lot of people in my parents’ generation don’t realize that education is a form of investment. After all, Universities are run like a business. You just have to hope that your investment will pay you back ten-fold. Those who don’t understand this concept constantly pressure their kids to find a job, even while in school. What they don’t realize is that, University is like a full time job. Sometimes you even work longer hours and not get paid overtime.

Volunteering is a form of investment that most pre-medical students have to make. My parents can’t comprehend this idea. Why work for somebody who won’t pay you? What are you actually gaining out of it? For me, volunteering gives me a chance to help people without asking for anything in return. I can attest to the fact that most people in my generation grew up pampered with so many opportunities handed to them whether they realize it or not. It’s just a humbling experience when you get a chance to make somebody’s life a little bit better, even for that one moment. Volunteering in some ways is another extra-curricular activity. Treat it as such, and you’ll never mistaken it for a job that you’re not getting paid for.

In the end, I’m glad I have my parent’s work ethic. I do want to be able to take care of them financially one day. They keep reminding me that by the time I’m done school they might not be around or that I’m not going to remember what they sacrificed for me to get to this point. Which isn’t true at all. Don’t they know that heroes live forever? And that they’re always remembered for everything they’ve done?

[everyadam]

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Do you remember back when you were just a kid again: no responsibilities, no pressure to perform, and lots of free time to do nothing. I miss those days. Although, if I was given the choice to rewind my life back to a much simpler time, I’d probably pass on the opportunity knowing full well that we all have to grow up sometime. My fondest memory growing up was when I turned 16 and was finally able to drive. Right then I knew that not only was I responsible for my life while on the road but others’ as well, and one misstep could lead to an unimaginable disaster. I liked that type of responsibility. I liked being in control of a situation. And being a doctor will provide me that similar feeling.

This isn't Katia. She was tan with rusty highlights. But you get the idea.

My first car was a tan colored ’87 Ford Tempo with black trim that was handed down to me by my older cousin. Like every other guy, I decided to name my car as well. I ended up naming it Katia because deep down I wished I was driving a foreign car instead of this ugly old piece of sh*t. Katia and I went through it all. She endured so much from the short time we knew each other. After 3 accidents, a busted air-conditioner, and a constant overheating engine (I guess it was her way of telling me she was fuming…pun intended), we had to depart ways. Even though Katia can be a moody b*tch sometimes, she provided a very memorable backdrop to the movie that was my life at the time. Don’t get me wrong, the four-door sedan provided lots of room at the back for uh hum you know what – “knitting.” But it’s not fun when you’re driving around with your date and she suddenly turns to you with one raised eyebrow and asks you “uh is it supposed to smoke like that?” You begin to smile because you thought she said something else and then you finally realize that seconds from now you could be trapped in a great ball of fire. It’s a definite mood killer. O Katia, may you rest in peace – I’ll always reminisce about the times we had back then, along with all the fond memories from my childhood and teen years.

[everyadam]

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If you ask any pre-med student, “what would you do for a chance to study medicine?” ninety-nine per cent of them will answer with an emphatic, “ANYTHING!” and then regret it later on. Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in a really bad reality television show along with thousands of other people all fighting for that top prize – a seat in medical school. Everyday that passes by; you just hope that you don’t get put up for elimination. The cloud of doubt, the endless prayers sent to the medicine gods, and the relentless whining to strangers, all will seem so trivial if you end up getting what you want. Nonetheless, it helps to pass the time.

If you make it through the first round of elimination, then it probably means that your grades are good enough… for now. Not very comforting, I know. Then you get thrown into a pool of leeches, i.e. overachievers who will probably get into multiple medical schools (I despise these leeches), where you will hope that you don’t get eaten up and forgotten forever. At that point you become a “scrapper,” clawing and climbing your way to the top so that the admissions committee will notice you. You become desperate and call them periodically to ask them about your status. Really, what you’re asking them is, “did you throw my application in the garbage yet?”

Before you even get to the next elimination round, you have to make it through the interview. To make it to the interview, you hope that you’re interesting enough for the committee to want to talk to you. At the interview, the producers (i.e. the admission committee members) will look at you under a microscope to determine if they want you in their show. You sit there with your sweaty palms and adult diapers hoping to god that they don’t notice that you’re extremely nervous. Still, getting an interview is no guarantee that you will get in. Getting a rejection letter post interview is like getting bitch slapped with a hand accessorized by a brass knuckle. It’s not fun.

Even if you make it through the interview, you’re going to have to wait because you know that the schools interview way more candidates than they can accommodate. So you resort back to whining and praying to make the time go by. And in the end, if you become victorious, becoming that “sole survivor,” realize that it’s just the beginning. The irony is that, you’re fighting for a chance to work and not a million dollars. With that said, I am one of those people who would proudly answer the question with an emphatic, “ANYTHING.”

[everyadam]

Please feel free to comment at therejected.solojourney.org

This weekend is Labor Day weekend here in North America, otherwise known as Beer-Chugging-A-La-Palooza-Whamma-Lamma-Ding-Dong. Basically, for most people it’s just another excuse to vegetate, pig out on dead roasted animals, and chug back as much alcohol you can handle. As for me, I’m heading north to visit some old friends. Ever since I moved back to my hometown, I’ve found that it was getting increasingly harder to keep in contact with people I’ve met while I was away at school. It’s hard to stay in touch with people who you don’t interact with on a daily basis; it doesn’t matter how close you once were to them. I guess I’m just a bad friend. I’m really looking forward to this weekend. It will give me a chance to catch up on old times and to hopefully relieve the stress that I have endured over these past couple of months that dated back to when I first handed in my application.

You ever noticed that your college friends are so much different from your high school friends. I find that I connect more with my college friends even though I grew up with my high school ones. I think it’s because when you go away to school, you grow up faster, you’re forced to become independent, and you’re exposed to more “things.” And these people just happen to be in your life at the time when you’re just figuring things out. College turned out to be a very important chapter in my life.

I miss those days in college where we would wake up with a heavy hangover yet throw back a beer anyway… Please click here to read the rest

[everyadam]

Please feel free to comment at therejected.solojourney.org

Thank you to those of you who have been reading my posts and visiting my site. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Hopefully I’ll be well enough to write a post titled, “Labor Day 2006: The Aftermath,” when I get back from my long weekend trip!

[everyadam]

I wrote a post titled "Labor Day 2006: The Aftermath" at therejected.solojourney.org

I would have posted it here also, but the article is rated PG-13 borderline R and I don't really know what you can and cannot talk about here on NMM.