Unmatched
A personal statement turns into a personal plea. Down but not out... yet.
Did you know that World Meteorological Organization names hurricanes alphabetically using 21 letters from the English alphabet (they excluded letters q, t, u, x, y, and z)? If that preset list is exhausted in one season, they start to use the Greek alphabet. Having just survived medical school hurricane Wilfred, and with hurricane Alpha beginning to form in the east, I look at my demoralized crew.
The compass is broken, the first mate has broken down into tears somewhere, and oh, by the way, there's a hole in the ship’s starboard side. I raise my spyglass to investigate the horizon; praying the island I'm aiming for is not a mirage. It won't be an oasis by any means. We'll need to make camp, find food and water, establish trade -- but this leg of the journey will come to an end, and new adventure will begin.
I just have to make it to the island.
“In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed [...]
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.”
I am a hard worker; if you read my dean’s letter you’d know that’s true. Perhaps they’ve looked past my board score? Perhaps they’re not even reading this, but it's true: I work hard.
I took notes on rotation to look up later and transcribe into a notebook so I’d have a better chance of remembering the pearls I learned that day. I ran around the hospital doing whatever was asked of me. I read and took notes, made flashcards, and fell more and more in love with medicine.
My standardized test scores, while passing, have always been mediocre. From my ACT to MCAT to COMAT and medical boards scores, they're alright -- but once I'm at an institution? No organization has regretted taking a chance on me.
I'm much better in person than on paper. I'm only looking for the opportunity to demonstrate that.
I am a problem solver. My husband and I live in a fifth-wheel RV. It’s fun, unconventional, and comes with its own special problems, especially while parked in Alaska. There have been countless plans -- A through F -- that have failed during my many problem-solving experiences. Right now, my plan looks like a Hail Mary. But what have I got to lose? Winter is coming and the heater isn't working. I know the solution is on the horizon, and that victory will be sweet when I taste it. I know I’ll be better for it. It’s the same problem-solving attitude I bring to the table with my medical team.
I am a team player. I've been a part of a team all my life; from family to sports, to marriage, to the workplace. I've learned no task is too small if it needs to get done. Sometimes, when rotations felt like glorified shadowing, I'd offer to do small office tasks or be a message runner. Other times, I’ve had opportunities to play a more essential role.
While on my inpatient pediatrics rotation, we had a complicated case of a two-year-old female presenting with autoimmune symptoms but no clear diagnosis. There were many cooks in the kitchen, with my preceptor being the head chef. Experts from Seattle Children’s Hospital wanted CT or MRI imaging, but we were hesitant to expose this little one to radiation via contrast. As the medical student presenting the case, I knew were we facing a tough decision, so I wandered down to the reading room talk with Dr. Z, an awesome radiologist who let me shadow him during my remote radiology rotation.
Dr. Z wasn't there, but one of his colleagues was willing to entertain my question. I presented the case and boiled down our radiology question to the following: "If we want to assess vasculitis in a two-year-old, what's the best imaging modality?" He gave multiple options, the least harmful being an ultrasound of the Superior Mesenteric Artery. When I presented the case in rounds that morning and brought up the imaging options I’d discussed with the friendly neighborhood radiologist, my preceptor called the team down in Seattle to relay the options. Ultimately, an ultrasound was scheduled for later that day.
As a future physician, I know I'll be the leader of a team, and that effective delegation of tasks will be necessary. As a medical student with the interesting position of having the least responsibility with the most amount of time on one case, I was able self-delegate certain tasks for the best outcomes in patient care.
If it seems like I'm laying it on thick and have outlined my case in a painfully clear way, it is because I have. I didn't match. This is my Hail Mary. Please, take a chance on me.
The SOAP process was unfruitful. The scramble feels like I'm hanging onto to this dream of medicine by a thread. But I'm here.
I'm working the problem. I'm persevering. I am a hard-working team player who loves to know at least two fun facts about my patients. I am an outdoors woman who is passionate about medicine and patient care. I have staked my claim where compassion intersects science. I'm going to be a great physician.
“The sea is dangerous and its storms terrible, but these obstacles have never been sufficient reason to remain ashore.”
Medical schools are graduating more physicians than there are residency spots , not to mention the internationally trained students also joining the fray (see graph). This bottleneck effect leaves thousands of fourth-year medical students unmatched.
I am one of thousands standing at this petrifying crossroad.
"We need more physicians!" says the country.
"I'm here, I'm ready, I want to be trained," say the unmatched.
"No positions available," say the residencies.
The federal funding to residency programs was frozen in 1997 and hasn't been expanded since. In March 2021, The Resident Physician Shortage Reduction Act of 2021 was reintroduced to congress. This bill would create 14,000 much needed residency positions over seven years. We need it to pass.
Anne Keeling, DO
PNWU-COM Class of 2021
Pacific Northwest University of Health Sciences