To drop out.. or not to drop out.

I’m a soon-to-be Med School Drop Out. Or a temporary drop-out turned doctor. This blog is my journey to find my lost self, and figure it all out.

It’s been five months since my last rotation, and technically, I’m still on the books. The white coat hangs in my closet. My badge gets me into the gym. The only thing between me and a life-long career in medicine is Me.

Let me explain. When I considered a leave of absence, I never expected it to turn into a long-term relationship. But once I let go of the impossibility of considering any other career, a hundred doors opened. I can’t get back to this or nothing else.

Do I lack dedication? Will I cut and run every time life gets hard?  Last night, reading Jeff Goins’ You are a Writer (So Start Acting Like One), I reached the chapter on feeling trapped, forgetting why this is your passion, wanting to check out and move on. I nearly dropped the book to double-check my fall rotations (maybe my unspoken intent to leave had removed me from the roster).

When it comes to re-invention, where is the line between courageous and quitter?

When I left school in November, I figured one rotation off, plus winter break. Six weeks to ice a burn-out and get back on my feet. It was long overdue. We’ve all had the moment, after a really rough (insert here) when we go to that dark place. The one where we would never do anything, but if the universe hit us with a bus right now…  If you haven’t, you probably don’t remember Hanson or phone cords either. Call me in your 30’s.

Medical school was rough. Everybody feels this way. Right?

No one really knew bad it was – including myself, until I look back over the misery. It wasn’t normal. I called a family friend, the administrator at another medical school, who helps his students find ways to cope with the emotional toll. He recommended a mental health program for ‘Professionals in Crisis.’

The program’s target age was older. It is mostly doctors, lawyers, hedge fund managers (did I mention lawyers?). Work-a-holics who outrun life in Oxfords, until life finally catches up with them. Think summer camp for your mid-life crisis. I’d be the youngest person by a decade.

I asked whether he thought I should go now, or wait one more rotation, and fit it in over the break.

“I think.., ” he paused, “If you’re considering a program like this, you should probably go now.”

So I went.