Please Don't Mind The Echo, or, How I Got Into Medical School

So let's just get it out of the way that my second medical school acceptance call, for the school I now attend, was totally normal.  I was sitting on the couch playing video games with my husband when my phone rang.  I answered, the friendly admissions lady on the other end told me I'd been accepted, I thanked her profusely, and we hung up.  It was quite nice.

This is not about that phone call.  This is about my first med school acceptance call, and it involves one of the most private of places.  Let's start at the beginning.

The application process for medical school has several steps and takes about 6 months.  After taking the MCAT (which is its own 6-month ordeal) a student has to make it through primary and secondary applications, as well as a formal interview.  Using this body of information, the school makes a decision on who gets admitted to the incoming class.  The acceptance rate is below 15% at most medical schools.

I didn't have very good grades for the first 2 years of college, courtesy of balancing real life crap and school.  This meant when I talked to my premed counselor during my junior year, he sighed deeply and informed me that I wasn't a competitive applicant.  I let that pronouncement eat at me over the next year, even after doing well on the MCAT.  I tell you all of this so you will understand just how on edge I was during this process.  By the time I'd made it to the interview stage, I was practically vibrating with nerves.

Cut to November of my senior year.  I'd just had my first! ever! interview and was in that terrifying period just after: waiting for a response.  This particular afternoon I was hard at work in my college's histology lab, memorising slides with my fellow premeds, several of whom were also anxiously awaiting answers.  And like good premed seniors, we had our cell phones with us.  Always.  ALWAYS.  I would set my phone on the edge of the tub when I showered; otherwise it stayed in my pocket or my hand, where I would glance at it constantly.  It had been a week of this, and this day was no different. 

Until I had to pee.  Perhaps you see where this is headed.

I tossed my phone to one of my friends with strict instructions to answer for me if an unknown number called and tell them I would call back.  And I was still sitting on the toilet contemplating life when the main bathroom door slammed open and I heard my friend's half hysterical voice ring out.

"Zoe!  Someone called for you!  Where are you?  I'm bringing you the phone!"

"What?  Don't answer!  I can't talk to them right n-"

"No, no, it's too late, I already picked up, she wants to talk to you-"

"But - wait - "

It was indeed too late.  A hand shoved my phone unceremoniously under the stall door and shook it excitedly.  In a panic, I Kegel'd harder than any woman ever has in history, accepted my bloody phone, and squeaked, "He- hello?"

"Is this Zoe?"

"Yes, yes it is."  No.  Oh my goodness, no.  This cannot be happening.  Squeeze, Zoe.  Squeeze!

"Hi, this is Admissions Lady from The Medical School."

"Uh, ha, hi.  What can I do for you?"  Must talk less.  What if she hears the echo?  Oh, please, Lord, please don't let her notice an echo.  Please.

"I wanted to thank you for coming out to see our school, and I also wanted to let you know that we have decided to accept you into our school's incoming class."

Pause.

"Hello?  Zoe?"

I honestly don't remember what I said after that or how I got off the phone, because all I could focus on was that if I gave full rein to my relief and gratitude... well.  I really didn't need that poor lady on the phone to hear just how relieved I was.  I do know that I laughed uncontrollably for about five minutes afterwards.  As did both my mother and mother-in-law when I told them what happened.

There are some good lessons to be learned from this.
1. We often speak of God's perfect timing.  I would like to emphasize that He also has perfect comedic timing.
2.  Sometimes we will be blessed by having humility baked into a set of circumstances.  I can never talk about how I got into medical school without that story, and it is a beautiful demonstration of how little I actually control.