Navigating Life as a Medical Student
It was a weird transition for me.
I sometimes felt like I was the only one in the sea of 144 that had minimal medical experience before the white coat ceremony. Even seven months in, I had to keep my phone handy for emergency Google searches when everyone but me appeared to know what a tourniquet was. Results: It’s the rubber band thing they tie around your arm before an IV.
I let out a sigh of relief because I’ve actually seen that one before!
Tourniquet, tourniquet, tourniquet. I had to say it a few times under my breath, hoping it would stick.
Before medical school, I spent 8 years working as full-time waitress at the popular Italian restaurant in my hometown. Throughout high school and college, when I wasn’t trying to memorize each step of the Krebs Cycle, or drawing my 800th benzene ring: I was serving food to the public.
Because of my different schedule, I did not have a lot of friends from school. Instead, pretty much all of my friends were my coworkers whom, you can imagine, are very different from the typical type-A medical student. Instead, I worked with a diverse group of single parents, recovering addicts, career servers, and people just doing their very best to make it through the month.
Those were my people.
I remember when I got my first med school acceptance call:
Med School: Hi, Cassidy, what are you doing right now?
Me: I am just about to go to work.
Med School: What do you do?
Me: I’ve been a waitress for 8 years.
Med School: Well, I am just calling to let you know it’s going to be your last.
I proceeded to work… freaking out.
Everyone was so happy for me. My ambitious dreams they had watched me try to reach since high school were just made a reality. I continued to serve tables until I left for PNWU.
Everything was going great until the realization hit me. The time had come for me to trade in my apron for a white coat. I learned quickly that that apron was more of a security blanket than a uniform.
I moved to Yakima by myself, leaving everything I knew so well three hours away.
I went to orientation. No one talked to me.
I went to the White Coat Ceremony. No one talked to me.
This transition was not treating me kindly. These people were nothing like my usual people. I felt sure I would never fit in.
When the anxieties of the first semester of medical school hit me, it became apparent that I needed to make these people my people. Medical school is not something you can tackle alone.
I had a new realization I had to become comfortable with: I was not waitress Cassidy anymore, I was going to be a physician. This identity change was inevitable, and it was time I started accepting it. I started putting myself out there. I made my first friend. Slowly, I began merging into the group.
These people weren’t half bad. I could get used to this.
I am almost through with my second year now, and things have gotten so much better.
I am comfortable with my new life and proud of what my past life has given me. Through the years, I have been blessed to work with people from vastly different walks of life and I can honestly say that I have loved or related to every single one of them.
I have learned that relating to others is just a matter of listening. Once I took the time to listen to my fellow students, I was able to relate to them all the same. I feel lucky that waitressing gave me the opportunity to deeply care about and befriend people different from myself, and I am confident that this will serve me well during my career as a physician.
If you ever feel like you’re the only one who is struggling to transition, I want you to know that you aren’t. We all feel it and we all handle it differently.
Please reach out. I promise you; someone needs you just as much as you need them.
Cassidy Johnston
Osteopathic Medical Student - 2nd Year (OMS II)
Pacific Northwest University of Health Sciences