There was a time I wanted to be a cartoonist. My dad taught art, and I found joy in sketching and shading. I always scored highest in Arts or anything that involved drawing. Even as I grew older, that love didn’t fade. I carried it into my secondary school (Abeokuta Grammar School), up until my senior years, when I initially wanted to be in the arts department. But my teachers and parents encouraged me to choose science instead. I was one of the top students in my set, and they believed science would give me more “serious” opportunities.
So, I chose science.
Even in science class, I kept finding my way back to art. I could draw well in Biology. There was also Technical Drawing. I added Technical Drawing in SS2 when a teacher was finally employed for it, and to everyone’s amazement, I led the class. At that point, I started hoping to become an architect or a civil engineer – something that still allowed me to create with my hands. It was a confusing time, and when my parents and a family member later suggested Medicine, it felt like a slap to everything I’d hoped for.
Me? Medicine?
My secondary school friends knew how odd that sounded. I’d never mentioned wanting to be a doctor – not even once. I wasn’t interested. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that I’d spend my life studying a course I never dreamed of, just to please my parents. But they insisted it would assure job security, and that as a doctor, I’d always be relevant. I didn’t agree at the time. But I listened.
Years later, I’m closer to my final exams in medical school and, oddly, some things have started to make sense.
I love technical skills, and in this course of study, especially in surgery, I get to use my hands to perform various things, such as making illustrations (in my jotters) and performing procedures as basic as urethral catheterisation. I see how this field touches lives, how it heals and helps. More importantly, I’ve come to learn that passion isn’t always loud at first. Sometimes, it whispers. You don’t always have to start off loving something before you pursue it. Passion can grow slowly and honestly. I have listened to my teachers talk about how they never liked a particular speciality, but now, they’ve mastered it. I think I am writing a similar story too.
In my early days in medical school, I thought I needed to give all my attention to academics. I saw people pressing their phones all day, attending meetings, playing sports, joining politics. I didn’t just get it. Why “waste” time? I believed school should be the top and only priority.
I had a laptop which was gifted to me as the best graduating student in my secondary school. In my mind, it was meant only for reading PDFs and lecture slides. That was all. No distractions.
But no matter how hard I studied, I couldn’t seem to score beyond a certain mark. Meanwhile, those who were involved in extracurriculars were also doing well – some, even better. That challenged my thinking.
That’s when I decided to “waste” time wisely. I turned my laptop into a design tool. I joined the Creatives Team of the Ilorin University Medical Students’ Association (ILUMSA), where I began creating flyers and visuals. It felt like my love for art had found a new form. What started as pencil sketches in primary school had grown into something digital, something practical. During the COVID-19 break, I sharpened my design skills, and eventually I started creating infographics, health materials, and magazines – not just for ILUMSA but also for other student associations and academic journals. I also picked up Scrabble and later became a coordinator in the Scrabble Community.
Looking back, that “waste” of time was worth it.
Now, I understand that someday, my classmates and I will all wear the same title. Doctor. But what will set us apart are the other things. The soft skills. Leadership. Teamwork. Time management. Creativity. I’ll be becoming a person with something more to give, maybe to healthcare, maybe to something else.
I’ve also learned that if something matters to you, you can always make time for it. Life isn’t always about choosing either/or. Sometimes it’s both and balance is also a skill that is worth learning.
And maybe one more dot has connected, parents often see what we can’t. It took me a while to realise that they weren’t trying to puncture my dreams. They were trying to guide me in the best way they knew. Out of love. Out of experience. They wanted to spare me the mistakes they saw coming. And maybe – just maybe – they were right.
As narrated by: Dr Makinde Abdur-Rasheed Opeyemi (Ilorin, Nigeria).
This snippet is published as part of the series, Surviving Medical School.
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