I was not the smartest or the brightest; I was just a little girl who wanted to be a doctor. At times, I was scared when I heard people’s experiences in medical school, or when someone asked me if I knew what I was doing. But I knew I was going to put in the work required.
I didn’t get admission into Medicine the first year I applied, but I tried again. I really wanted it, you know. And I got it on the second trial. That admission letter was more than just an acceptance into a programme; it was the beginning of a dream I had carried for so long.
The first year came and passed. Nothing was really strange; I was happy to be here, and everything seemed perfect. Every lecture was exciting, and I believed I had found my place. 100 level passed by in a bliss.
Then came 200 level. I resumed with the same determination and resilience I had. “Not the best, not the worst,” I would often remind myself, but I believed I could do it. Weeks went by, and I wasn’t so sure anymore. What exactly was going on? Why was there so much to read? Why did I spend the whole night reading this topic and I still couldn’t even remember the definition? When were we taught to discuss what others were talking about so confidently?
My walls of determination began to crash down. Maybe I can’t do this after all. Who was I deceiving? What am I doing here? How will I cope? Every day came with its share of tears. Every one of my classmates seemed to have it all together. Maybe I am dumb after all.
I called family and friends and told them, “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You can, Miracle. I’m proud of you. I’m praying for you,” they said. And those words kept me alive inside.
Exams came, and I did my best. Tears and doubts followed after every paper. “What if I didn’t write what my lecturers wanted?”
Then came the results: I passed. In fact, I did excellently well, way better than I expected. That moment taught me something invaluable: effort, even when clouded by doubt, still produces results.
In medical school, you have to keep going day after day, posting after posting, exam after exam. Some will be good, some will be bad, some will be ugly, but you just have to keep moving.
My family and friends came through for me and are still tagging along. Their constant encouragement, their reminders that they were proud of me, and their unshaken belief in my abilities kept me going even when I couldn’t see my own strength.
Now, in my final year, looking back, I have realised that nobody has it all together. We are all in this together, struggling in our own ways, yet pushing forward to make our dreams come true.
I just have to keep going, one day at a time—whether it is an ugly, bad, or good day. And that is the beauty of this journey: persistence in the face of doubt, faith in the midst of uncertainty, and the courage to rise every single day.
As narrated by: Ganatsdo Jael (Ilorin, Nigeria).
This snippet is published as part of the series, Surviving Medical School.
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