The first is not always the worst

For two more weeks I'm still the president of WYA. So perhaps this should be on wyapres.blogspot.com. However, as this post is actually all about me and very little "about Dignity" in the narrower sense of dignity being understood I've decided it should be here.

To begin, the last 9 months of my life have been filled with waiting. No, I haven't just had a child - however the symbolism is rather appropriate. I've waited to hear if I would receive an interview to med schools, and then to see if I would be accepted.

Prior to this I was always the one who made the decision. How I agonised choosing between so many awesome opportunities in my life. For once, there was only one thing I wanted - to go to med school - and the decision didn't rest with me. I had handed in my resignation as President of WYA and started the search to replace me last June. My successor had been chosen and is ready to take over.

Yet I still waited. Weeks passed, Months passed. I started to receive emails and queries about "where will I go next:?" My friends ever optimistic "of course you'll get in", "you are so qualified", and yet I still hadn't been accepted.

Either my friends and people who knew me were liars, or something about me wasn't translating well onto paper, or medical personnel simply weren't interested in what I have to offer!

I had almost given up hope of ever receiving a positive response. Weeks of researching Masters in Public Health schools was beginning to turn into excitement to pursue another path to achieving my dreams. My application was ready to send off, I only waited to hear from one last school before pushing that button and spending yet more money.

This morning I awoke after dreaming, I had driven to a room where the letters waited. I opened my letter with the other applicants and looked around to see people congratulating each other. I opened mine and one word towards the bottom jumped out; rejected. Immediately I reached for my laptop and struggled to clear my eyes of sleep to type in my username and password and check the results. I'd been locked out. 30 minutes later I used my new password to check again and saw those magical words; accepted - deposit requested.

I rushed from my office to call my Mom and started crying. Why, wasn't I happy? Perhaps the stress of imminent rejection was finally lifted and this was how I expressed it. Perhaps I don't actually know how to express emotions in a recognisable way (after my rejection I'd been cracking jokes - no one could take my depression seriously).

Whatever the cause of my distorted emotional reactions, I don't actually care. I'll learn about that soon enough. For now, I am just so happy to be going to Dalhousie medical school!