Someday Doctor

When I decided to go back to school to fulfill my dream of becoming a physician, I was prepared for failure. I’m not a defeatist, but I knew that the odds were stacked against me when I went into it. I was 31 years old. I had a wife, a daughter, and enough debt to keep me from getting too optimistic. But I decided to give it a shot anyways.

It didn’t work. I hardly made it through a month of pre-med classes before our financial situation became so dire that I was compelled to drop my classes and find a full time job.

I’ve learned to live with this. I have a full time job with a Fortune 1000 company as a web/multimedia designer, and I love my job. I really do.

But as I’ve talked about before, I can’t step into a hospital or doctor’s office any more without wondering what could have been. I can’t watch the government giving billion dollar handouts to failing corporations without wondering where MY economic bailout is. I can’t read a story about Charlie Sheen spending half a million dollars on drugs and escorts without thinking that it would only take a fraction of that money to pay off my debt and go back to school. The amount of money it would take to set things right and get the ball rolling is pocket change to so many people.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t feel entitled to anyone’s money—not even Charlie Sheen’s—but it strikes me that in the big scheme of things, it’s really such a small amount of money that is preventing this from happening.

I feel I’m being taught an important lesson here—a lesson in generosity that we all can learn from. We all have gifts we can give. We all have the power to improve someone’s life. Things that seem small to us—things we take for granted—can make a world of difference to someone who has nothing.

Instead of pining over the things I lack, perhaps I should share a bit more with those who have even less.

My mantra: “It is never too late to be what you might have been.” ~George Eliot

Try as I may, I cannot permanently quench my desire to someday become a physician–and believe me, I’ve tried really hard. Ever since I began working full time again, I have given full attention to an experimental form of therapy that I like to call “denial.”

Here’s how it works: I wake up in the morning and drive to work. I sit down at my desk, sip on a cup of coffee that I never finish, and give my daily to-do list a once over. At lunch, I either eat out with my coworkers or hide away in my own private corner and do some writing. At the end of the day, I drive home, kiss my wife and my 2-year-old daughter, watch some television, do some freelance work, and go to bed.

Notice anything missing? That’s my defense mechanism. In order to avoid thinking about medical school, I keep myself as busy as possible, because I know that if I give myself the opportunity to dwell on it, my situation will become unbearable. This may sound the slightest bit depressing, but it actually works pretty well most of the time. Overall, I’m a very happy person. I find great joy in coming home to a wife who loves me and a child who dotes on me. It suits me very well. And for the most part, I even enjoy my job.

But inevitably something happens to turn my attention back to what I might have been. This past Friday evening, my wife and I rushed to the hospital for a joyous occasion: the birth of my brother’s first child. But as soon as we pulled into the parking lot of Centennial Medical Center, I felt a familiar tightening in my chest. It was the same feeling I get every time I go to a doctor’s office or a hospital–a sense of purpose mixed with despair. It’s a strange dichotomy of feelings, but it’s always there. The despair hits the hardest as I reflect on all of the poor financial decisions that have hindered me from doing what I so passionately desire to do. But the sense of purpose that lies beneath the surface does more than I can explain to temper the despair.

That sense of purpose becomes elusive when I try to put words to it. I imagine it’s sort of an idealized manifestation of the sense of purpose an actual physician might feel when he or she has made a significant impact on someone’s life. As I pass doctors in the hall, I feel that sense of purpose as though I were already one of them. I like to think that this feeling is some kind of subconscious indicator that I haven’t really forgotten about my dreams and that it’s only a matter of time before I’m able to fulfill them.

I’m sure that when I go back to work tomorrow, my usual coping mechanism won’t work so well. But hopefully that sense of purpose will keep driving me, even after the despair wears off.

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In case you’re curious, the delivery of my niece went without a hitch. It was a long labor, but Natalie is perfectly healthy and absolutely beautiful.

Much has happened since the last time I posted–most of it a falling apart. I have neglected to post about it, because the events of the past few months have all but made this blog completely irrelevant.

Shortly after starting my pre medicine classes, financial issues required me to pull out. Unfortunately, my financial obligations were more pressing than my work-at-home job allowed for, and I was forced back into the world of full time work.

I’m now a full time web designer for a large company, and while it’s a fun job, I’m still ultimately disappointed that things came to an end so quickly after getting started. I want more than anything to become a physician, but for now, that dream is infeasible.

My goal right now is to pay off as much of our debt as possible in the hopes that I’ll be able to get things under control before I’m too old for all of this.

If you’re a man or woman of faith, I would greatly appreciate your prayers.

The start of a thing is the most difficult part.

Last Friday was my first day to set foot on the Texas Tech campus as a student in over seven years. A lot of thought, discussion, and prayer has gone into this decision, but, as with any 31-year-old husband and father, there are so many variables in this equation that it’s impossible to think of them all. So, we’re forced to tackle some of them one-by-one as they show their ugly faces.

And several of them made themselves known over the last few days.

We haven’t given up hope yet, but my decision to go back to school has just become significantly more complex. Our ability to pay our current obligations (car payments, credit card bills, health insurance, etc.) has been impacted more than I had anticipated. Through a series of horrible financial decisions, we’ve dug ourselves a ditch that is becoming increasingly inescapable.

For now, I’m going to stay in class while we try to figure this out. But if we cannot figure it out soon, this journey may be terminated in its infancy.