Disappearance

If it seemed as though I disappeared from the face of the Earth for a while, that's because I did. I entered the deep, dark place known as "Step studying." Oh, sure, the name sounds innocuous enough, but for those of you who appreciate Star Wars references, it was much like heading into the Dagobah System. I spent six concerted weeks honing my medical knowledge surrounded by a gloomy cloud of dread. Pass or fail. Not happy with your passing score? Too bad; no retakes.

Most of my time was spent in my tiny back office, ever-so-slowly pedaling away on my recumbent bike while annotating First Aid with the  hints, reminders, and clarifications I gleaned from review lectures. Never in my life have I studied so concertedly and consistently. My kids were shocked. "No, guys, for real. This is the big one I've been talking about. Give me some time." They dealt with my sequestration well, knowing that the longest stretch of attention I could muster usually lasted less than two hours and then I would listen to their stories or resolve a conflict or watch a YouTube video with them. My 10-year-old wisely told me one morning, "Mom, you should study hard today, but not so hard that you get tired and grumpy. But you need to study enough so that you don't get all nervous and mean." I smiled and thanked him for the advice. He just shrugged his shoulders and added, "I don't really know what I'm talking about. I've never really studied before. Hope it helps." My wild and crazy life with my children is what has kept me sane these past two years.

Studying for the first "step" of three licensing exams was a bittersweet experience. I'd have an incredible ah-ha moment as to why the drug used to treat cystic fibrosis was also an antidote for Tylenol overdose (those magically pesky disulfide bonds!) followed by a sinking, panicky feeling that I would never remember exactly which cytokine spoke to which cell. Much of the time was spent refreshing my memory of minutiae that had long ago evaporated, but a fair amount of the time was also spent integrating concepts of disease processes and treatment regimens. If I said it was enjoyable, I'd be lying. But it was immensely beneficial and will undoubtedly make me a better physician.

I took comfort in knowing that I was never alone in my study-exile. An occasional group text saying, "Ugh...Can't brain...anymore" from a friend would result in one of us finding enough personal motivation to send a cliche meme to each other. Thank you, Shia LaBeouf, for making the most inspiring speech at just the right time for us to laugh our way out of our drug-mechanism-of-action-and-toxicity-induced stupors. I think at some point, all of these "Just do its!" found their way to my phone. As each of our test-days approached, the unicorns and rainbows and other "I believe in you" messages would appear. We'd remind each other that we've spent two years studying this stuff, and solving 308 cases in about a minute a piece was well-within the scope of possible. (Solving them correctly is still up for debate as our scores have not yet been released.)

Third year orientation has already happened, and I'm eager to report to my first day of my OB/gyn clerkship tomorrow morning. A couple of nights ago my 17-year-old daughter plopped down on my bed, grabbed one of my books, and began reading PreTest questions to me. I helped her pronounce words like "cephalohematoma" and then we'd break down its etymology. After about a dozen questions, we began talking about which colleges she will apply to this fall. It's so nice to know that Step happens, then life goes on. Right now, I'm simply loving mine.