Chapter 13
After the whirlwind of third-year rotations, we were given a two-week break.
I spent the first week holed up in my apartment, catching up on sleep.
After that, I went back to Wisconsin for a few days, visiting friends and family.
Mick crossed my mind often, but I had finally moved on—not with another guy, but with the quiet confidence that I was on my own path.
One night, Erin and I went out for drinks. After regaling me with her horror stories, she asked if I was interested in anyone.
I shook my head.
“Really? No McDreamys or McSteamys?”
“Trust me,” I said with a laugh. “It’s nothing like Grey’s Anatomy.”
“What about life outside the hospital? New York City has to be crawling with hot guys.”
“Sadly, other than dinner dates with Lesli, I don’t have much of a personal life.” I hesitated, then said, “Is Mick seeing anyone?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “But I doubt he’d tell me if he was.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s like an unspoken rule that we don’t talk about you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “I don’t think he can bear to hear your name. He’s not over you.”
My stomach fluttered for a reason I couldn’t quite name.
—
Back in New York, our fourth year was gearing up.
It was time to start studying for Step 2 CK (Clinical Knowledge)—the next gatekeeper to residency.
Between filling out applications and hitting up attendings for letters of recommendation, interview season was also in full swing.
Lesli and I practiced questions with one another—Why Ob-Gyn?
Why this program? Where do you see yourself in ten years?
By the time on-campus interviews began, we were ready.
One morning, speaking with an older attending from Wake Forest School of Medicine, I deviated from my usual, polished answer.
Instead, I told the truth: “I like sitting with patients in the hardest moments of their lives. I like not looking away.”
Her pen stilled. She met my eyes and nodded.
—
In January, the subinternship lottery opened for spring rotations. I submitted two preferences—Ob-Gyn and Internal Medicine—then began planning electives I hoped would shape my future: maternal-fetal medicine, gynecologic oncology, and reproductive endocrinology and infertility (REI).
In February, I finalized my Rank Order List for the Match. I included fourteen places, putting Columbia first and UW Health last.
Less than three weeks later, it was finally Match Day. We gathered in a lecture hall where we were each handed an envelope. Inside was the single piece of paper that would dictate where we’d spend the next three to seven years of our lives, depending on the specialty.
Lesli wanted to open our envelopes together, but I needed to be alone. I found an empty stairwell and sat on the cold steps. My hands shook so much I had to steady them on my lap.
I finally opened it and read: Columbia University Medical Center—Ob-Gyn Residency Program.
It was my first choice.
For a moment, I just stared.
A rush of joy followed.
There was a tiny beat where Mick crossed my mind, the ultimate what-if floating through me like vapor.
Then, something steadier rose to the surface. Not happiness exactly—but certainty. Certainty that wasn’t based on a man, or a friendship, or some inner desire to achieve, but instead welled up from something deep inside me.
I stood up and walked back into the lecture hall, letting myself believe in a future that I’d carved entirely on my own.