Another 12 Hours til Lift Off!

12 short hours until Day 1 of Medical School: Mandatory Orientation.

Yippeeeeeeeee!

Finding a Place to Call Home

This week began with a list of new houses to look at. I visited the city twice this spring, and two of the houses I saw on my trip in April are still on the market. Both had elements of what I wanted, but neither was something I felt like I just had to have. Least you think that is overly snobby of me, I've got to say, at age 39 I have grown tired of living in "eh" places.

I had narrowed down my list to 18 homes, but told the realtor I wanted to start with the ones that were my favorite on paper. Once I walked through home #2, I knew that we were done. This home is the same age as me, and (like me) it needs a little updating. Sure, it could use a major kitchen remodel, but the basic bones are fantastic. The neighborhood is picturesque, and the schools are the best in the area. Plus, it is on an acre lot and my 9-year-old son can have his much dreamed-about chicken coop. We drew up an offer on the spot.

The week has been pretty tense dealing with offers and counter-offers and changes in loan stipulations. Earlier today, I signed the agreed upon counter-offer on the house I will be in for the next four to eight years. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the loan application goes through without a hitch (although I've already been on the phone with our lender a few more times than I'd like this week). Our plan is to close on the house two weeks after school starts as that is when my husband can take a couple of weeks off of work and move the family.

Being open to moving for medical school created so many more possibilities than if I felt like I had to get into my local school. I've read lots of posts by non-traditional pre-meds (usually Moms) that say that the only chance they have at medical school is going to the one that is within an hour from home. I am sure that happens for some people, but for most of us it means you have the choice to become a doctor or stay put. My state school scores applicants on a variety of factors and advises students to be average in at least half of the categories. Frankly, I rocked all of the categories, but it just wasn't meant to be. Hanging out for another month or two on their waitlist when I had a seat open for me here just would have been torture.

That's not to say that the alternative is easy. Moving is hard! I have six school-aged children that are making some pretty big sacrifices. I'm leaving my oldest child behind to start college in our "home state." My husband doesn't have a job in our new city, so he will be returning to work after he gets the kids settled in their new schools. My decision to go to med school is affecting everyone. It is scary, but it is also thrilling, exciting, and amazing. I love that I am not just telling my kids to make their lives what they want, I am showing them that it is possible. Difficult, yes, but oh-so worth it.

Home Sweet Temporary-housing

After two full days of driving, I have arrived safe and sound at my new home in Texas. Well, sort of. I am subleasing a room in a student apartment complex for a month while house-hunting. I must say, I forgot how thin apartment walls are and how luxurious student beds aren't. So while my body tells me, "Sleep, you fool!" my brain says, "I do believe you could be more uncomfortable, theoretically." The amber glow from the street lamp shining directly into my bedroom window just adds to the ambiance.

OK, gripe session done.

In all honesty, I am so grateful that my little car weathered the journey. The drive was long, but good music and "company" via the magic of cell phones made the solo trip bearable. I pulled into town before sundown, so I had plenty of time to get settled into my new room. I even ran to the grocery store, made a salad for tomorrow (quinoa and black bean--tastes best chilled), and planned a rendezvous with classmates.

The "geriatric group" (5 of us over 30) are meeting up for coffee tomorrow. A local gal--whose husband was a non-trad a decade ago--has put in lots of effort to get our little group connected via Facebook this summer. I'm looking forward to finally meeting face-to-face. I've already received so much support and friendship from these relative strangers. I've heard comments about the long-lasting friendships formed in medical school. It makes sense when you consider the high-stress environment; a situation that often leads to either camaraderie or cut-throats. I'll pick camaraderie any day.

12 Hours til Lift Off!

Man, I am tired! I suppose that means I should go to bed rather than posting to my blog at two o'clock in the morning.

I've spent the last two days going through my belongings and whittling them away: recycle, trash, donate, sell, and (finally) move. It's time consuming and a little emotional. Some of the emotions are wonderful--like when I find a stash of baby pictures of my 12-year-old. Some of the emotions are not so wonderful--like when I find that my 15-year-old decided to help by tossing a bunch of financial documents into the recycling instead of the shredder.  For being the only one leaving tomorrow, I sure have given the entire house a solid once-over this week. Hopefully, this will prevent my husband from loading up the 26-foot truck with nothing but junk.

This evening, my husband and I went out to dinner and a play to give me a little sanity. It was just what I needed. You know what? When you are in a dark theater with your cell phone off, the only option you really, truly have is to enjoy the moment. Ah! Bliss. But, of course, all good things must come to an end, and I put in a few more hours of packing prior to hopping on the computer to print my hotel confirmation for tomorrow...er, tonight.

Right now, I anticipate pulling away from home (and my kids! Sob!!!!) twelve hours from now with my husband's little sedan packed to the gills. Two days of driving and I will be in my new home sweet home. Wish me luck!

Serendipity

I quit my job today. Yes, I was sad, but mostly I was giddy. In four days I'm leaving home and heading to a new town in a new state to start a new chapter in my life.

Over the past few months, I have spent an absurd amount of time reading about public schools and taking virtual tours of houses trying to make what needs to happen next week a little easier. Moving a family is a whole lot more complicated than just packing up my lonesome and venturing into the unknown. My mantra is to have faith and lean into it. I am sure that I sound like a silly romantic, but sometimes the good that life has to give you is so much more than you can imagine.

Last fall, I read The Alchemist as I flew to interviews. The protagonist in the story is reminded to watch for signs and trust what nature brings to him. While walking along the beach with my sister a few weeks ago, I noticed what I thought was an oddly-shaped mass of seaweed. As I got closer, I realized that it was nothing natural at all, but a sea-worn resin statuette of Ganesh.

 

What a beautiful gift from the Atlantic! Ganesh is the Hindu god of intellect and wisdom, and he is often referred to as the Remover of Obstacles and the Lord of Beginnings. Though I am not Hindu, I appreciate this gift from nature for what it is: a sign of things to come and a reminder to trust that all of this will work out for my good.

At what cost?

When I told my big brother of my plans to got to medical school, he said to me, "That's great, Vieve, but it will come at a cost." My thought: Well, duh.

I am face-to-face with a few of those "costs" right now. In one week, I'll be moving to Texas without my family. My belongings are in an incredible state of disarray, and I feel a bit overwhelmed by the prospect of finding a home to purchase before school starts on July 31. Monday will be my last day at the job I've thoroughly enjoyed for the past three years. These are just a few of the most evident "costs" that my brother was referring to. (The pain and suffering of biochemistry earlier this year was yet another one.) Having just turned 39, I've been thinking lots about embarking on this daunting intellectual and physical journey so late in life. Frankly, I think medical school will take more out of me than someone 17 years younger.

As hard as change is, I can't help but think of what it would cost me to not go to medical school. What is the cost of burying a dream? How do you even begin to measure that? I can quantitatively asses the price of tuition, the expense of moving, the lost wages of leaving the workforce and quitting before being vested in the pension plan, the cost-of-living difference for my family, et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum. But this really isn't about measuring the economic opportunity costs. It is about living my life, and staying put also has its price.

I was reminded of this last week when I ran into one of my colleagues in the hall. We worked together on a couple of projects a year ago, but I haven't seen her much lately. "Aren't you leaving for medical school soon?" she asked. I smiled a toothy grin and told her I would be gone in less than two weeks. She just shook her head and told me, "I'm so jealous. I wish I had done that when I was your age." Sharon is in her early 60s. All my doubts about what this venture will cost me and my family just seemed to disappear.