By February, I thought it was all over. After all, so few applicants are granted acceptance to medical school, and here I had mine. I had interviewed with the University of Iowa in January but it did not seem, to me, a good fit. I began looking for future room-mates in Vermillion, South Dakota. Then an email came from the University of Wisconsin's School of Medicine and Public Health. I remembered putting almost no time into that school's secondary application because they accepted only 2.5% of out of state applicants--I thought I wouldn't stand a chance. I had applied, however, because friends of friends had talked about the school being really neat and because it had a unique emphasis on both medicine and public health. I also had to apply to a few schools in the "top ten" bracket because my surrogate mom insisted, and this was #9 nationally.
When I looked on the accompanying website to find lodging in Madison for my interview weekend, there was a list of hostels, one in a Benedictine monastery (which, sadly, was full) and a hostel international (HI) house. I booked a bunk in the 6 women dorm at HI. My car then went to the shop for a "routine" checkup, ended up in major surgery, and I drove a rented car over to Madison.
The first cold night (-40C windchill, warmer than South Dakota's -60C) the medical students invited all interviewees to an informal talk, strictly off the record, to ask about anything we wanted to know. I noticed that, even though we were all seated around a big table, it was easy to discern who the medical students were and who the applicants were. Medical students were snacking on the food provided. Introductions involved each of us saying something unique about ourselves. At the U. of Iowa, fellow applicants talked about the speed at which they could read, or the extremely expensive sports they played. I only felt comfortable enough to talk about vegetarian cooking.
At the U. Wisconsin, however, one curly read headed medical student said he had spent a summer in Uganda, and the applicant to my right had grown up in Iraq. I easily stated that I had done the Peace Corps in Uganda, had grown up in Jordan, and that the three of us should get together to speak different languages, but that I was working on English. The medical student replied "I think your English is great," to which I was a little confused.
I returned to the hostel that night to find, not five snoring women, but only one dorm mate (I guess -40C is not tourist season). She was a retired lawyer turned art writer. We discussed her advocacy work for mentally ill persons in the justice system late into the evening. The next morning, she reminded me to wake up after I dozed following my alarm.
Interview check began at 7:30 and although I was staying less than five miles away, I left at 6:45. There were so many people and bikes on the street both morning and evening that a car had a hard time of it. If it had not been a formal suit interview at -40C, I would have joined the full masked, snow suited mob. Imagine a city where pedestrians not only outnumber but intimidate vehicle operators? Paradise, perhaps.
When I finally rounded the bottom of the medical school stairs, I saw a big sign "Welcome UWSMPH interviewees" it stated. "I wonder who those important sounding people are?" I thought, confused by all of the letters. It took me a while to realize that this was the University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health, and that sign was for ME. I glanced up the stairs to see a crowd in suits descending. Defrocked of heavy winter coats and wearing neat name tags, they looked like an army. "I am late, I must have misread the schedule (which put check in from 7:30 - 8:00am), I should just drive home!" was my first thought. I then thought about all the money I spent on the car rental and that it should not be wasted. I ascended (7:45), prepared to be simply turned away.
When I reached the office, I found that I was within the appropriate time window, and checked in.
I had worn my interview suit, which was purchased with my grandmother as fashion advisor par excellence, two years earlier in Aberdeen, South Dakota, for this very moment. It was the suit I had worn to my previous interviews, but at the U of Wisconsin, for the first time, I was not the best dressed applicant present. I merely fit into a very good looking crowd.
Over forty of us, of different ages, backgrounds, and nationalities listened to multiple presentations from deans and professors. I found that, following each presentation, I had a relevant question or two, and most presenters answered 3-5 questions. My first question, of course, was "How much of professor promotion and tenure is determined by teaching and mentoring reviews and how much is determined by research publication?" At the University of Iowa, I was informed that research presented the sole criteria for professorial promotion, but that all the professors were "such good people" that they mentored and taught with excellence as well. hmmmmm. At Wisconsin, I was told that without good teaching evaluations, professors have lost their positions and been unable to gain promotions. Other questions were more specifically relevant to the presenters, such as one UW hospitalist who spoke of using her research to inform advocacy for ACA (Affordable Care Act) legislation. I asked which channels she used to pursue legislative advocacy, and she replied she had a contact in congress. Another interviewee asked this same presenter to explain, again, what a hospitalist was... I felt bad for him.
As time drew near for our interviews, three of us were ushered toward offices on a different floor. As I, the last, stepped off the elevator, a man using the wheelchair tried to load but the door began to close on him. I hung a few paces behind my group trying to hold the door open but it continued to shut. "This is dangerous!" I exclaimed, and I pushed the "open" button and made sure the man was secure before exiting the elevator. I found it remarkable that the other two interviewees (one of them a paramedic) had not responded, but chalked it up to my profound ability to walk behind the others in my group. I guess I had been trained well by my last name : )
I was led to the Global Health Institute office. Inside, colorful paintings and masks, from different parts of the world, all of which I could identify, donned the walls. My interviewer discussed the work of the GHI-- developing a national emergency medicine system with the government of Ethiopia and building and training professors for medical schools across sub- Saharan Africa, including Uganda. We talked about Makerere University and Mbabrara Univerisity's medical school as partners in improving Uganda's medical infrastructure. He only asked me one question "What will you do in medicine?" I replied that I did not know which specialty I would choose but that I would bring myself into whichever it was. I wanted to offer immediate medical problem solving, and to use my experiences in the clinical setting to inform advocacy work relevant to my community. I told him that women's health was a good candidate but that, given the public policy implications in the US, psychiatry may be promising. I mentioned the National Health Service Corps, and he replied "You don't want to do that. Wouldn't you rather be building medical schools in Uganda?" "That was my retirement plan," I replied. "That's the problem" he said "we need young people who make this their career." Ok, yes, I was in a state of bliss. Yes, it may have been too good to be true, but if not....
Lunch with my fellow interviewees found myself and an environmental science major as the only non-engineers at table. One biomedical engineer designed prosthetic devices for a living and we began to talk about 3-D printing. He used it every day, I only knew what I'd heard on NPR. Another fellow had been a childhood Olympian and had attended MIT. I didn't even know what to talk with him about. I munched on my hummus pita (vegetarian option) with a quiet resolve. "Wow, this would have been an amazing place to go if I had made different choices and become an engineer or something" but as it was, I did not see how I could surpass these fellows' resumes.
After this, I was interviewed in a group of three interviewees by two students. My interviewers were much like the other medical students I had met at
UW that weekend, long droopy green and brown colored sweaters. Girls
with long hair and scarves. Men with slight beards at times. Warm,
relaxed, welcoming. Smart but not intimidating, not snobby. These were
the cool kids. I kind of wanted to just stay and hang out. I found it interesting that the students had the ability to veto candidates they didn't feel would fit the character of the school. High bar for me, to be sure.
The three of us interviewees were first asked to name our college majors. It sounded like this "Engineering, social work, environmental science." Wow, did I feel out of place! We were asked questions such as "If there was no illness or disease, what career would you choose?" I answered that there would still be disparities and struggles over limited resources, so that I would want to be an advocate for disenfranchised groups-- go social work! We were then able to ask questions, and I was glad I was in the middle. My partner on the left asked a question, then I asked two, then my partner on the right, then I two.. then left, then me two... finally the guys on the end were done and I had the questions to myself. This may have been slightly uncool, but this was my chance! Here were two medical students to myself with 15 minutes to really dig down to what their lives were like, how they hoped to incorporate community advocacy into their practices, why they wanted to practice medicine, how they studied, etc. I could not let the chance pass at any cost. At that point, I felt as though I may not be accepted, but that I could glean valuable information from these students to inform my own medical studies in South Dakota.
That night, I called my grandmother in South Dakota and told her how wonderful the interview and school had been. I did not ask for it, but she gave me permission--- "Sarah, if you are supposed to go to the University of Wisconsin, don't worry about me and your grandpa, we'll be ok" I needed that liberating love. Later, when my hostel roomate came home, she showed me her swollen knee and asked if I could do anything for her. I looked at my hands and wished they had the knowledge to do something practical, but they did not. "Maybe you'll lean how in Wisconsin!", was her cheery reply.
I drove home, listening to Barbara Kingslover's "Animal, vegetable, miracle" and planned for how to eat a more environmentally balanced diet next frozen South Dakota winter in Vermillion.
On March 7, I recieved a call from the head of admissions at the University of Wisconsin-- I was offered a position. I paused. The woman asked "Hello?" I replied "Doesn't everyone pause when they get this kind of news?" "Do you call everyone who is accepted?" I asked." Yes." "Do you have to call the ones who aren't accepted?" "No, I don't have to call them." "Wow, I don't know if I want to go to medical school, your job sounds like a lot of fun." We laughed. Later that day, an email came to me from the University of Iowa. It directed me to log onto their admissions portal, a decision had been made. After I entered my identifying number, a prerecorded message and computerized confetti popped up. I had been accepted. I didn't even watch the message, I declined the offer out of hand.
I -- the little girl in the trailer park who wished I could become as successful and stable as our mail carrier. I-- the one with the hand me down sweatshirts with names of places I have never been. I-- who, while visiting the doctor with medicaid as my insurance, said I wanted to become a physician. I have been accepted into three good (2 of them top) medical schools. Can I say it? Hallelujah!
My friends and support network in Sioux Falls have lovingly released me and although I really hate to move, I think UW is the best fit for me. On Wisconsin!
