In twenty-three days I will turn twenty-seven. If I look back to when I was eighteen and think where I thought I would be at this age, it's sad and scary. Did I expect to be married? Maybe. Did I expect to have children? Probably not. Did I expect to be a housewife? Not in a million years.
At eighteen I was off to a top university in America to pursue my dream of being a doctor. Given that most of my schooling was done in Europe, I was entering the college in my third year. I had just a year and a half of classes before I got my bachelors in biology and would then continue to medical school. Everyone expected I would fly through it, given my academic performance to date.
I always exceeded at school, but not through actually applying myself. Luckily for me I was relatively intelligent and loved learning. I rarely studied, yet managed to sail through with above average results. Yeah, one of those people! I considered going to medical school in Ireland and with my predicted score for the International Baccalaureate (Leaving Cert or A-Levels) being next to perfect, I'm sure I could have, but for some reason I had my heart set on going to America. When I was accepted and knew my IB was not needed, I neglected said exams and barely studied. In the end my technique finally let me down. I achieved above average, yet not quite stunning marks. My chemistry score never would have gotten me into Irish medical school. Indeed I went on to appeal said score to no avail!
Not one to look back, I hopped on a plane to start my new life in America. I threw myself into the university scene, joining clubs, making friends and registering for classes. When classes started I found that most of them were quite easy and covered things I had already studied in Europe. As a result I stopped going and found new ways to spend time, such as racking up credit card debt, smoking pot and drinking. I'm sure you'll see where this was going. At the end of the year I had gained 70 pounds, tried to kill myself at least once and had a grade point average of 1.47 - read barely above failing.
During the summer my family moved to America due to my mothers job and I was politely told I would not be returning to said university, which devastated me. I signed up for classes at the local community college, which was like being in high school again. Teachers actually grading your homework and being more like babysitters. Living with parents again after a year away was also a challenge. I fell back on an old hobby of mine - music.
I had always been a good singer and had even been accepted to some top class music schools before deciding I wanted to pursue medicine, so it seemed only natural to fall back on it. I studied privately that year and before long had a full scholarship to one of the best music schools in the world.
In 2000 I started music school. I was to pursue a bachelors in music performance. Music school is very strange or perhaps I should say music students are very strange. Fellow voice majors had egos the size of Canada, yet their talent did not always back it up. It was nothing like the normal university I had previously attended and frankly I hated it. Classes began at seven to allow instrumentalists the afternoon to practice. As a singer one really shouldn't practice for more than an hour or so as it strains the voice and I was not an early riser! I was also in remedial theory and piano classes which were taught by foreign graduate students that made absolutely no sense! Perhaps the most interesting thing that happened in the few months I was there was that I met P. P was a piano major who, like me, had come to music school because he had a talent, not because he wanted to necessarily pursue that talent or even enjoyed it. We cliqued and before long we had both dropped out and moved in together.
Needless to say our parents were not too pleased. We decided we needed to get real. We both got jobs as bank tellers and within a few months we were engaged. We both took classes at the local community college again and eventually got decent jobs. I worked for a fortune 500 company in corporate finance and pursued my degree in finance on the side. I worked very hard and moved up quickly. I led six sigma projects, piloted various customer service concepts and collected millions of previously written off dollars for the company. I loved it and excelled at it! We got married in 2002.
Just a few months before I was to finish said degree I found myself pregnant. This was far from expected. I ended up on bed rest and was not able to finish school. Childcare at night and my husbands schedule prevented me from finishing after she was born and before long we had moved to Ireland.
So here I find myself a housewife, with no degree. I want to say I am satisfied. I feel like I should be. So many working mothers (indeed I was one) would give their left arm to do what I do, yet I'm not happy. I look back at the story above and I hate myself. I had opportunity after opportunity and I blew them all. I always come back to the point that I could be a doctor right now. I wanted to go into oncology or neurology. I wanted to help people. It saddens me that I ruined it all. Yet, I am happy because I have a family I love.
I'm 27. That's young. I'm done having children. I could make a significant contribution to the workforce, yet I really don't feel like getting back into banking. Then it hits me. You're only 27. You could still be a doctor.
Could I? Technically it's possible. Irish schools allow mature student applications. But what self-respecting medical school is going to look at my history and let me in the door?
I want it and I want it bad. I will work my proverbial ass off, I will wow them with my essays, charm them with my interviews, show them my MENSA card and present them the finest recommendations, but will it be enough? I don't know. All I can do is try. I am going to sit the MCAT, which is a test used for admission to American medical schools, but is not required here. If nothing else it will show them that I am making an effort and want this bad. I would be a good doctor. I would have more bedside manner than some of the kids who will be competing for a spot with me. I have experience with people, with management, with kids. I know how to handle people. I know a lot about customer service. I won't drop out of the workforce in my thirties because I want to stay home with my kids. I'll have already been there and done that. So how how HOW can I convince them? Anyone?
I want to be able to prove to the eighteen year old me AND the today me AND my two beautiful little girls that I can do it and that I won't be a disappointment to them or to me any longer.
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