What It’s Like…walking into that space again

I had biology class yesterday. I loved everything we talked about in lecture. I felt myself being really engaged and curious with the material. I kept thinking about all these experiments and lab projects I would want to do and how amazing the field of immunology is. I felt so happy to know that I finally have a biology class that really interests me and to really feel content with working in immunology in the future.  

I went to volunteer at the hospital right after class but I couldn’t stop thinking about lecture with every patient I met. My heart obviously break for patients every time I’m in the hospital, but it keeps me going. It keeps me motivated and happy, that one day, maybe I can help them. 

Yeah, maybe one day I can help them. This is what my future could look like: working as a physician-scientist and causing change in my community. This is what my future could look like. 

So, I came back to my room, dropped my bag on the floor and laid on my bed. I took a deep breath while looking at my fairy lights across my celling and allowed the tears to fall from my eyes.  Not because I didn’t like class, not because I couldn’t handle seeing patients, it’s because of that phrase that kept repeating in my head: 

“this is what my future could look like”.

In all honesty, the word “could” was repeating the most. 

The word “could”, by definition  is “used to indicate possibility”. It’s not definite statement, it can change. So yes, I very much “could” graduate from UChicago,  I could finish my post-bacc,  I could get into an MSTP program and then I could graduate from medical school and become a physician-scientist and educational advocate. I could, but there is also the possibility of the opposite of that statement. I “could not” achieve any of these things. 

With that, I texted my friend Isabel, asking her if she could come to my room.  I continued to lay on the bed in that same position when she walked in as I told her all of the could and could nots of my life. By the time I finished, I didn’t even realize how close she was to me, my eyes were to blurry.

After 30 minutes, I eventually climbed out of bed and we chatted about funny memories. We  went to dinner  and hanged out with the friends that we lived with.  I played volleyball,  watched my RA’s and RH’s die from our in house hot ones, and had almost a one hour conversation about various elements of life with my RA. After a long night, I made my way up to my room. I changed into my nightgown, got on my bed and laid in that position again. The tears were still there, but so was my laptop. 

I wanted to check my schedule to see when I could book an appointment with counseling services.