Match Day '15: It never gets old.

Match Day 2015

I keep waiting for Match Day to get old for me. For the giant clock on the wall striking twelve noon, the medical students sprinting for their envelopes, and the emotional pendulum that follows it all to seem blah and played out. At Emory, the location hasn't changed in years. Even the faces of a lot of the faculty members who stand around with our slightly less baited than our students' breath hasn't really shifted much either. Yet every single time, year after year, it feels magical to me. And brand new.

Match Day 2013

Admittedly the "odd" years are the most meaningful to me. As a small group advisor who has students graduating from the four year program on those years, these are the ones I've watched since their first day of medical school. But now that I think of it, the even years can be just as awesome. Witnessing their dreams come true on Match Day is a high that I will never stop enjoying.

Ever.

Beyond that is something else though. The level of investment I have in people changed since losing my sister in 2012. It's upped the ante significantly for me. Sure. I went hard before. But now that I realize how short life is and how critical it is to be a responsible steward of my influence and time, I go even harder. I decide more carefully where to pour my energy. And once I decide? I'm all in. 

I've talked about this before but it bears repeating. Out of the ashes of some of the most tragic life experiences can come unexpected beauty. I hold on tighter now. I want to water the flowers entrusted to me as dutifully as I can and then watch them grow. I yearn to roll up my sleeves beside the other gardeners who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty with me and then stand shoulder to shoulder with them as we marvel at the spectacular blooms before us. Match Day is a chance to present those flowers to the world in dazzling bouquets. Big, bold beautiful ones that we helped to prepare.

Match Day 2011

Yes.

I always take a lot of pictures on Match Day. I'm particularly mindful to snap images of those with whom I had direct involvement, especially during the clinical years and residency application process. I love going back and studying their faces. The elation so unfiltered and unlike what usual happy looks like. I guess it's just that I can see more into those pictures than others might. See, Match Day for most medical students is a day of glory. But me? I know the story. 

Sigh.

This year was like always. I met their parents. I met their grandparents, too. Shook their hands and tried to beat them to the kind word punch before their lips could even part. I told them who their children have been in their absence and let them know that they done good. I described the attributes that really, truly matter to parents--the ones that I now realize are the best ones. Especially now that I have children of my own.

"Your son is kind and has a heart for people. He is patient with even the most challenging patients and can find the good in everyone."

"Your daughter fights for what is right and stands up for those who may not be able to stand up for themselves. She expresses herself well and makes sure our patients are treated with dignity. She has a servant's heart and is an advocate for the least of these."

I didn't really talk about how smart they were. I mean, they're about to graduate from medical school and, for goodness sake, they got in to medical school in the first place. But since I know and I think their parents and grandparents know that it isn't really just about being smart, I give them those concrete words of affirmation. And for every kind word of gratitude they offer me, I trump them with some declaration of what I've seen in their child and the gifts they will offer the world.

That is, from my perspective as their teacher and mentor. And I win.

Yeah.

This is such a privilege. Each year I try and try to put it into words but feel like I fall short every time. Instead, I will just share some of Match Day 2015 through the eyes of this clinician educator and her trusty iPhone camera. The lens may not be high tech but for you to see what I see, it doesn't have to be. I especially love the ones of them holding up their Match notification letters. I love that in these photos they were looking at me and me at them. . . and how much of a dialogue is held in their eyes. Or that we were together sharing in a pivotal moment. Perhaps if you look close enough, you'll see it, too. And just maybe you might feel your pulse quicken, your heart skip a tiny beat, and your eyes sting with tears while you do. And even if you don't feel any of that, don't worry. . .  I had you covered.

Yeah.

Small Group Gamma, Match Day 2015

Best. Job. Ever.

That's it. That's all. Wait--and this. A certain medical student opening her envelope back in 1996.

Almost as exciting as this year.

Almost. 

***
Happy Saturday.

And still I rise.

"You is kind. You is smart. You is important."

~ Aibileen, "The Help"

This picture was taken on Match Day last week. The beautiful, proud young woman holding this envelope is Swaisha F. and she is one of our graduating senior medical students. I have found it literally impossible to look at this photograph without crying. I am not even kidding.

I can't say all I want to say because I am crying again. But let me say this: Students need support. They do. And when they have it? I mean really, really have it?

This is what it looks like.

Here's the other thing I'm learning from this side of medical education:

When we support you, it supports us, too. It gives meaning to what we do and a nudge to go harder. So for that, I thank you, Swaisha. I thank you for allowing me to be a part of this journey with you because it has left me forever changed.

Forever changed.

I guess I'm just thinking. . . true support comes when someone looks at you as who you have the potential to be. They remind you repeatedly of who you are because sometimes, especially when the going gets a little tough,  it's easy to forget that. And sure, sometimes it's very specific help with the nitty gritty things. But a lot of times? All it is is someone chucking you under the chin and reminding you over and over and over again of these simple affirmations . . . .

"You is kind. You is smart. You is important."

Yeah.

***
Happy Wednesday. And warmest congratulations to our newest gainfully employed M4 students!

You can read more on the Match Day experience (from the perspective of this blog) here and here. And you can also get better insight on the above post and Swaisha here.

I swear this just never gets old for me. Ever.

Oh, and of course, this:

Match Day '13: Leave it all on the field.

I remember the first day I met each of them. Shaking their hands hard and asking them questions like, "What is the proper pronunciation of your name?" or "What's your favorite food?" Yep. Those icebreaker questions opened doors to relationships.

They sure did.

We sat in classrooms dissecting clinical cases and exploring algorithms on whiteboards. Then, later we stood shoulder to shoulder on hospital wards. They asked things that challenged me and made me go home to read. They often had the answers to the things I'd forgotten or never knew and they helped us to create this collegial, safe learning environment that brought out the best in us all.

And sometimes--a lot of times--they simply made me laugh.

Yep.

All of this unfolded over the course of years. Text messages asking for urgent meetings. Us hashing out details of professional and personal lives and hoping that our solutions worked. Making phone calls and sending emails and even offering some tough love on the days that it was necessary. Yep. A lot went into it.

A lot.

This year for match week, I was unusually emotional. Almost embarrassingly so. I know--it's hard to imagine me being even more emotional than I usually am, but just try because that would give you some idea of where I was this past Friday. I think part of it is because I see life with different eyes now. Since Deanna passed away, now more than ever I recognize how important it is to love and live with zeal. It's the only way to have no regrets. And yes, I do think that I live my life with purpose, but I think that kind of loss rips the covers off of your bed and leaves you more emotionally naked and exposed. You see things with a different clarity. Love comes more into focus.

At least that's what I think.

I was proud of my students Friday. And you know what? I admit that I was proud of me, too. Proud that as I watched them ripping open those envelopes and erupting into loud cheers and happy tears. Proud that I had given of myself fully to the ones entrusted to me. And I was hyperaware of it all as it was happening. Almost like it was in slow motion.

Even going into the day as my nerves began to stand on end, I spoke to one of those students to try to offset some of my crazy onto him. Instead, he spoke words that helped me to take a deep breath and relax. Those words were: "Dr. M, I'm going to be happy no matter what. I know for sure that I gave my very best and that my advisor fought for me with all of her might. I know that. We truly left no stone unturned. I'm okay knowing that we left it all on the field."

We left it all on the field.

That's it. That's why I felt so emotional. I left it all on the field. I knew for certain that this year, more than ever, I had gone hard. Harder than I felt I ever had before. Many of my students did the same, so we wouldn't have to struggle with the "if I coulda-woulda-shouldas." No. Not this year. So match day was the day when, after running and gunning as hard as we possibly could, that the score was posted high on a board for all of the world to witness.

And this year? That score was a winning one.

This time was a little different than it was with Small Group Alpha. All but one of them graduated in four years and opened envelopes on match day in 2011. But this year, three of my eight in SG Beta are taking detours to do things like earning Masters degrees or becoming famous as researchers. So yesterday, we applauded five from our family and felt tiny butterflies forming for the same experience next year with the remaining three.

Additionally, I have what I affectionately call my "accessory small group." These are the students who aren't in my officially assigned bunch that have captured my heart and my time in ways that made them, too, part of my tears yesterday. They underscore what my grandmother once told me years ago:  "The heart makes room."

Yeah, it does.

And so. With my hand on my very proud bosom and my eyes still glistening with happy tears, I'd like to introduce you to a few very special people who allowed me to celebrate in their successes on Match Day 2013 . . . .

First, from my beloved Small Group Beta

Marla W. ~ Urology, University of Florida

Driven. Insightful. Professional. Conscientious.

****

Mark G.: Integrated Plastic Surgery, UCLA

Bright. Determined. Worldly. Chic.

****

Doris K. :  Emergency Medicine, University of Chicago

Consistent. Malleable. Supportive. Smart.

****

Jenna M.: Anesthesiology, Western Pennsylvania Hospital

Thoughtful. Exuberant. Faithful. Brave.

****

Dan W.:  Internal Medicine, Penn

Confident. Remarkable. Trustworthy. Unselfish.

***

And now, a couple of others from my "accessory small group" who've also stolen my heart. . .

Kevin S.: Internal Medicine-Primary Care, Brigham and Women's Hospital (Harvard)

Leader. Selfless. Gracious. Unforgettable.

***

Bryan O.: Internal Medicine, Oregon Health and Science Center

Talented. Kindhearted. Hardworking. Earnest.

****

There are definitely some more students that I could include here but won't since this is already getting long. That and the fact that I don't have pictures of them handy, either. But that said, those students know who they are. Know that I am equally proud of you, too. 

And all of the rest of you, who aren't quite at this stage yet? Know that I'm just excited for you because I know that "you got next." I promise to have my waterproof mascara ready for you, too.

What a wonderful day it was. Yes. We left it all on the field. 

And we won.

That's all I got for now.

***

Happy Sunday.

And the world's alright with me.

When the day that lies ahead of me

seems impossible to face

and someone else instead of me

always seems to know the way

Then I look at you

and the world's alright with me

Just one look at you

and I know it's gonna be

A lovely day

~ Bill Withers

___________________________________

Match day was today and I swear it just never gets old. I have a lot to say about it but I still get all quivery in the lips when I try. So let me just share this picture I took with Dan W. from Small Group Beta right after he got his first choice of programs. This photo speaks volumes of this lovely day.

Waterproof mascara? Check.
Red nose? Check.
Shades to cover leaky eyes? Check.
Cups that runneth over? Check, check, check.

More to come, I promise.

Best. Job. Ever.

***
Happy Match Day.

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . and crying all over again.



Overheard today at Match Day:

Student: "Have you seen Dr. Manning?"

Other student: "Yeah, I just saw her in the crowd a moment ago."

Student: "Was she crying?"

Other student: "Dude. Was she?"

Student: "Wow. That's love."

Exactly.

Match Day.

Captured in the crowd ~ me celebrating with my advisee, Antoinette

Seeing the students that you've known and taught since the very beginning of medical school opening their envelopes on match day just never gets old. 

Ever.

But especially the ones that you love.

Ant from Small Group Alpha

This one? I love so much that I can't even write about it. So I won't. Because I'm so proud and so full that I can't. So I won't.

I'll just say this: Congratulations, sweet girl. You have left me forever changed. This world is yours.

Gracias para todo.

Dr. M

***
Happy Match Day to all. And to all a good life.

Thursday Top Ten: The Best (Match) Day Ever

Match Day.

To employment! (That's cider for me--I had to go back to finish rounding.)

Today was match day. The day where all of the fourth year medical students all over the country rip open envelopes that determine where they will be doing their residencies. A day full of angst--the sonic boom heard all over America after a nearly four year drum roll toward being a doctor.

Today was that day.

Emory School of Medicine, today as I crossed the street

For the nonmedical folks reading this. . . .here's how it all works:

You decide on a specialty after doing all of your clinical rotations.
You make sure that your choice of specialty matches up with your performance in med school.
(Certain specialties require otherworldly board scores and grades, etc.)
You gather your letters of recommendation.
You apply through the computer application system.
You wait to hear from programs and if you're lucky, you get a bunch of interviews.
You interview.
You fret about which programs in which cities you liked the most.
You fret some more.
You pray, if you're into that. (I am.)
You rank the programs in order of where you want to go.
(Little do you know that the programs are fretting, too.)
The program puts in their lists in order of who they want.
You hope and pray that the folks who you liked like you back.
On Match Day, you rip open an envelope and find out.

My Match Day Moment, March 20, 1996

Yeah. That's pretty much how it works in a nutshell. I remember that day for me. I was so freakin' happy. Like so happy. My first choice of programs wanted me, too. And most importantly, as my father quickly reminded me, I was gainfully employed.

Yay.

I am doubting that this was cider (but don't worry-- I didn't have to go back to round!)

We had a big ol' party where we signed each other's scrubs, toasted a few too many times, and graffiti'd our names all over a giant map with our residency locations. That day was awesome. And as you can see above. . . . I sho' nuff celebrated.

So with that said. . .even though I always have enjoyed coming to Match Day at Emory each year, never has it ever even come close to the enjoyment I had on my own Match Day. Not even close.

That is. . . . until today.

*Gasp* 

 I can't believe I'm saying it. . .but it's true. This year was the best Match Day ever.

***

Quick background: In 2007 our School of Medicine overhauled its curriculum. The remix included sixteen faculty members appointed to advise small groups of medical students and teach them over a longitudinal experience for all four years. I was one of those lucky sixteen faculty members.

So in July of 2007, I met these seven students who, along with many other students in the class, I came to know and love very well. The nature of the curriculum created these family ties in our small groups that leaped above and beyond any teaching experiences I'd ever had. And it trickled from one small group to the next, like neighbors standing on porches handing cups of borrowed sugar to other peoples' children. All for a cake that in the end everyone would be invited to come over to enjoy.

Yeah. Like that.

I'd advised students before, yes. I've taught students, too. But this? This was different.

Never have I known learners so well.
Never have I been so invested.


That's why match day this year destroyed my careful application of drugstore mascara. Yes. Completely annihilated it--and any chance of anyone ever using the word "stoic" to describe me--all with what bordered on "the ugly cry."

I told one of the students today:

"Imagine how you feel right now. Now multiply it by all of you students and take that value to the fourth power for every single year I've known you. Then you'll know how I feel."

And so. Here is your Thursday top ten. . . .the top ten reasons (in no certain order) why this was the best Match Day ever. . . .

. . . . and why I now know for sure that I am walking in my purpose.

***


#10 The Excitement.

It's impossible to describe the excitement of the day.  You can see it in these faces, though.

#9 The Anticipation

They can't legally release the results until noon on Match Day. Here's a few shots of people waiting with baited breath. . . .

That clock is for the countdown. . .

Preclinical onlookers: "We got next."

#8 The Moment.

Some times a bunch of words just don't suffice.

a nervous student

a proud mother

a dream realized

first choices aligned again

Another proud "mama": Dr. B., one of the head advisors.

In the presence of two gentlemen both headed to Harvard for residency. . . !

Disbelief by some, relief by most, pride by all.

Over the moon

A job with benefits, too!

Words from the wise.

It's a family affair.

***

# 7 through #1: My Small Group.

The seven wonders that I have had the pleasure of watching grow since their very first day of medical school orientation. And seven reasons why if this wasn't my job, I'd sure wish it were.

Look at these shots and you'll know how long I've known them. . . .
I've watched them growing up right along with Isaiah and Zachary . . . .

Zachy wasn't even walking yet!

Zachy less than a year old with Adam less than a year into med school. .

Wook at dat two year old Isaiah!

. . . and here we are today as serious doctors. . .

. . .well, sort of serious doctors. :)

May I introduce you to my seven wonders--and part of medicine's future?

Each is described in four words, even though four thousand would never suffice.

And don't worry--I can tell you that the future of medicine looks bright.

***

Alanna.

Thoughtful. Empathic. Mature. Empowered.

Internal Medicine, UC San Francisco.

***

Hreem (pronounced "Rim").

Driven. Organized. Focused. Confident.

Ophthalmology, Rush Medical Center Chicago.

***

Jin.

Insightful. Compassionate. Loyal. Patient-Whisperer.

Anesthesiology, Walter Reed Army Medical Center

***

Ant.

Activist. Inspiring. Memorable. Brave.

MD/MPH Candidate, to enter OB/Gyn Residency 2012

***

"My Three Sons": Dougie, CQ, and Sparky

(Gainfully employed sons, that is.)

Tony.

Talented. Magnetic. Fighter. Winner.

Otolaryngology (ENT), Henry Ford Medical Center

***

Adam (aka "Sparky").

Selfless. Dependable. Passionate. Incredible.

Internal Medicine, Barnes-Jewish/Washington University St. Lo.

***

Doug (with sweet wife, Anne)

Caring. Gracious. Focused. Funny.

Anesthesiology, Mount Sinai Medical Center, NYC

***

Oh happy day.